


Escape

by The_Jashinist



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AND HEY HO LET'S MAKE THE ONLY BATKID FEATURED DUKE, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, DUKE IS A GOOD KID OK, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, HE IS, I am a bad person, Implied Sexual Abuse, M/M, Medical Torture, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, NANANANANANANANABATMAN, Needles, Other, POV Third Person, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Please Don't Kill Me, Sexual Harassment, Sorry Not Sorry, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Torture, Why Did I Write This?, don't ever let me do tags again guys, fight me, joker is a creep ok, seriously the first thing that happens is gory there is gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4927288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jashinist/pseuds/The_Jashinist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot has happened in two weeks.  Debatably a little too much, since the streets of Gotham have broken into chaos and for once, Batman's not the one who stops the riots in the streets.<br/>Granted the one who stops the riots in the street also started them, killed several people, has an extensive criminal record, broke out of Arkham, broke into Arkham, and in general really isn't the person you'd consider a hero.<br/>Absolutely insane, perhaps, but not a hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Lesson not yet Learned

The news was blaring in the background of Jon’s apartment, but he wasn’t paying attention to it, he was busy stitching up a knife wound, occasionally spitting into the sink, where he’d left the water running to flush the blood down the drain.  There was a cut on the inside of his cheek, probably from getting socked in the jaw, possibly from being smacked upside the head with a baseball bat, who knows?  Served him right for pissing off Two Face.

Well, not exactly “pissing off” and more along the lines of “this asshole can’t take no for an answer” but as far as Jon was concerned it was the same thing.  Jon just considered himself lucky he wasn’t dead, like Two Face had no doubt intended him to be.  A gunshot had grazed his ear while he was running away, the screaming of Two Face’s goons was still ringing in his ears.  Jon missed the days when Harv and Harvey had a vested interest in keeping him alive.  That was a nice two months, even if Two Face wasn’t what anyone would term “gentle”.

Nowadays Jon’s only opinion of the former lawyer was that Two Face needed to learn the definition of “disarm your captives” before he tried picking a fight with one carrying a gun.  Jon didn’t carry guns.  He couldn’t shoot anything smaller than a shotgun anyway, but he didn’t like using them.

“In other news, a recent interior breakout at Arkham Asylum has placed the Dark Knight’s  longtime foe, the Riddler, back out on the streets,” the news announced, sending a chill up Jon’s spine.  He edged out of the kitchen and stumbled over to the couch to watch the story.

A picture showed up on screen of a young man with slightly messy auburn hair, but far better kept than Jon’s, wearing overly stylish horn-rimmed glasses, with a big dumb goofy smile on his face that nearly made Jon want to scream.  He had no room to talk considering his mugshot was a blur because you really shouldn’t eat chips next to a manic person, but at least he wasn’t _smiling_.

“Jesus Fucking Christ Ed,” Jon sighed and dragged himself into the kitchen to continue stitching himself back up.

Then his phone rang, according to the ID it was Ivy, but Harley had been known to call on that line.  He greeted them the same either way.

“What do you want?”

“Did you just see the news or not Jon?” Ivy’s voice asked on the other line.

“I saw it, your point?  Ow.”

Jon pulled his finger away, a pinprick of blood ebbed out.  He sucked on the wound for a second then got back to work.

“What are you doing?” Ivy asked.

“Had a run-in with Two Face a while ago,” Jon spat into the sink, “I’m currently giving myself stitches.”

“There’s a place called a hospital Jon.”

“I don’t do hospitals.  Also, how much are you gonna bet that I’ll end up right back in Arkham if I show up to the hospital with a knife wound in my side?”

“Beats bleeding out.”

“The goons missed any vitals, almost got shot in the head running away.”

“YOU WERE SHOT?”

“No!  The bullet grazed my ear.  I’m fine.”

“What the hell did you do to piss off Two Face enough that he had his goons stab you?  I thought he liked you.”

“He had a proposal; I wasn’t interested.  Apparently Two Face doesn’t like that some of us want to keep a low profile until the whole red alert from last month dies down.  Plus, I never said he liked me.”

Ivy sighed, Jon could almost see her rubbing the bridge of her nose like she always did when he said stupid shit, her green lips trying so hard not to form an irritated snarl.

“Think you can print something out for me?” she asked, changing the subject, “I’ll send it to you, but I think Edward might appreciate it.”

“Why?” Jon scowled, wondering when Ivy figured out Jon had a printer and why she didn’t have her own.  They’d both been teachers, hadn’t they?

Then again Jon also stole one of the printers from Gotham U’s psychology department; he doubted Ivy had done the same.

“Because he broke out of Arkham, and if there’s anyone-”

Jon interrupted Ivy with a loud, exasperated groan.

“Oh please god no.”

“What?”

“He can’t show up at my place.  I’ve had to set up fear gas traps on all the windows, Two Face literally put his goons on a three-block radius around my apartment, Batman’s keeping an eye on me.  I’m gonna get gray hairs at this rate!”

“Jon, you’re twenty-eight.”

“Exactly!”

Ivy sighed once more on the other end, “I know Ed annoys you.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jon scoffed, tying the knot on his stitches.

“But right now, with everything that’s happened and with everyone trying to hunt us down…”

“All three of us.”

“Four, Firefly’s out too.  Look, just, don’t let him get killed or hurt or…whatever, give him the thing I sent you and we’ll figure something out okay?  You need to stop being so bitter kid.”

“I’m not a kid.  Pam we are the same goddamn age.”

Ivy hung up on her end and the line went dead.  Jon blew out his cheeks and shut off the water in his sink.  He walked over to his laptop and, still standing, pulled up his email and set the first unread email from Ivy to print.  The picture she sent was one of those goofy fake award things, but it would make Edward happy, perhaps.  With the news of Firefly and Edward escaping, that made five.  Five people who weren’t on Batman’s good side, but also weren’t on the good side of the other major criminals in Gotham, well, the big three at the moment, who were currently reduced to two as Joker was completely MIA: Two Face and Penguin.  Penguin didn’t like any criminals in Gotham, he hated all of them equally, but Two Face was a little more selective.  Jon had been on neutral ground until tonight’s incident, he even dared to say he was on somewhat good terms considering their history.  Tonight had undoubtedly changed things, and Two Face moved fast when he was pissed.  Goons were already posted on every street corner within three blocks of Jon’s apartment, and he was pretty sure there was one outside the building too.

Jon was just glad that Joker wasn’t showing his ugly face yet, he didn’t want to deal with that metric ton of stress.  There was a knock on the door, Jon glanced over at the door and sighed, this was either Edward or one of Two Face’s goons, and he really didn’t want to guess.

Of course, there was always one way to check.

Jon walked over and leaned on the door, looking at his nails with feigned disinterest.

“Only one color, but not one size, stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies.  Present in sun, but not in rain, doing no harm, and feeling no pain.  What am I?”

“That’s my job!”

Edward.  Two Face’s goons would’ve gotten confused and Two Face would’ve broken down the door.

“But if you must know, it’s a shadow.”

Jon pulled open the door and flashed a smile.

“You idiot,” he laughed.

“It’s good to see you too Jon,” Edward smiled “though I think it might be better if you didn’t look like you got mugged and you weren’t smiling at me.  Is that a stab wound?”

“Two Face decided to teach me another valuable lesson about the futility of saying no,” Jon replied and walked over to his printer, picking up the paper he’d printed for Ivy and a roll of tape, “to him anyway, and possibly you and Pam considering how often you two hassle me.”  Jon flipped over the paper and taped it to Edward’s face, words facing Edward.  Edward reeled back for a moment, looking bewildered.  Jon smirked.  He looked a bit like a puppy, or a cat when you put something on their head.

“Why is this award taped to my face?  When did you print this out?  How did you know to print it out?”

“You were on the news.”

“I was on the news?”

“You're frequently on the news Eddie.  I thought you'd appreciate me being nice to you for once.”

“So wait you think I’m cute?”

“Just say thank you Ed.”

Jon felt himself turning a brilliant shade of red.  He hadn’t properly read the paper before giving it to Edward; that probably should’ve been the first thing he did, considering it was Ivy who had sent it.  Ivy was convinced, for some reason, that Edward wasn’t going to leave Jon alone until Jon willingly admitted that he enjoyed Edward’s company.  It wasn’t enjoying Edward’s company that was the problem; it was more like he didn’t enjoy Edward’s near-constant company.  Edward was one of those people that, if he liked you, he never left you alone, and Jon was rather fond of privacy outside of intimate relationships.

“Did Ivy tell you to give this to me?” Edward asked.

“Yes,” Jon muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at the television screen.

“She always knows exactly what you won’t look at,” Edward praised, peeling the taped paper off his head and leaning on the back of the couch, “I daresay she enjoys embarrassing you.”

“Just drop it Eddie,” Jon shrunk his neck in.  Edward smiled and turned to the television set, vaguely watching it and mostly playing with Jon’s hair.  He’d caught it on a day when Jon hadn’t brushed it, so after a moment he felt a comb tugging its way through the dark mess while Edward humming a gentle song Jon didn’t recognize from anywhere but Edward’s own absent-minded singing.

For some reason, Edward loved Jon’s hair.  Jon didn’t mind it, or more accurately he didn’t really care.  Edward brushed it and played with it, and it was a rather soothing thing to sit through.  It was a mix of his father’s and his mother’s, like most of his features, the same inky black of his father’s and the same untamable fury of his mother’s.  It was nice to look at and supposedly soft, provided you could actually get a brush through it.

“You’re laying low,” Edward mentioned after a few minutes, “that’s unusual for you.”

“Joker’s MIA, the Bat’s gone crazy looking for Two Face and a few other escaped fruitcakes,” Jon shrugged, “Pam and I had to talk Bane into laying low until everything blows over.”

“So there are three of you left that aren’t out causing havoc?”

“Four, Firefly’s out on good behavior, or I’d assume he is considering Arkham isn’t on fire.”

“A sentence I never thought I’d hear.  How’d Ivy get out?”

“We slipped out during the breakout a few weeks ago, no one even noticed we were missing.”

“Did Batman?”

“Oh yeah, he’s been tearing the city apart looking for us.”

“Didn’t think to check the place you live?”

Jon shrugged.

“Allegedly, the man is a detective.”

“I’m insulted I’ve been intellectually bested by him.”

Jon snorted.

Jon’s cellphone rang again and once again, it was Ivy.  Jon answered and hit speaker.

“He’s here, what do you want?”

Edward jumped and looked over at the phone before realizing Jon was talking to someone and relaxed, looking away and pretending he hadn’t been startled by the phone.

“Oh he is?  Great, um…” Ivy popped her lips a few times, “promise you won’t be angry.”

“Pam, I’m always angry,” Jon replied, “what happened?”

“You know how Batman wasn’t checking our old bases because he thought we’d abandoned them?” Ivy asked.

“He checked your place, didn’t he?” Jon sighed, and started looking for a shirt.  That meant he had to clear out soon.

“And noticed Two Face’s men around your place and asked me about it,” Ivy added, “oh yeah and I’m using my one phone call on you to tell you and Edward to clear out.  That jerk has lie detectors in his mask if I’d told him I didn’t know he would’ve put two and two together.”

“Pam, I’m in no shape to fight and Ed’s a shitty fighter,” Jon commented.

“Hey!” Edward put a hand on his chest and made an insulted face.

“Shut up it’s true.  What do you want us to do?”

“If you want to end up back in Arkham, go ahead and stick around,” Ivy sighed, “but if you want to stay out of Arkham, I’d risk getting punched out by one of Two Face’s goons.  Gotta go sweetie, bye.”

The line went dead and there was a slam on the door, like someone was trying to break it down.

“Pam needs to start calling before the Bat actually shows up,” Jon lowered the phone, “Ed, there’s an empty cabinet in the other room, hide in it.”

“What?” Edward turned to Jon in confusion.

“Go hide in the cabinet I’m not letting you get tossed in Arkham.  You just got out.”

Edward paused for a few seconds, staring at Jon in utter confusion, then picked him up and tossed him into the cabinet.  Jon immediately panicked and slammed his body into the door of the cabinet.  He hated being closed in.

“Ed!” he shouted, trying to control his voice.

“I don’t think you’re in any shape to be tossed back into Arkham,” Edward sounded unfazed by any panic he happened to hear.

The sound of something getting dragged across the ground coupled with something getting propped against the door told Jon that he wasn’t allowed to debate this, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

“Let me out Eddie!” he insisted, banging on the door, his voice was picking up in pitch, “Please!”

“You’re stitches will break loose if you keep moving.”

“I don’t ca-ow, fuck!”  Jon flinched as a jolt of pain ran up his side.  A few stitches had popped loose and blood had begun running down Jon’s side.  Jon held his hand against the wound and tried to keep his breath steady.

“Told you.”

“Eddie goddammit!  Let me out!”

Jon began to kick the door.  Smoke billowed into the closet and Jon felt his eyelids get heavy.

“I think this is knockout gas, it was in your desk drawer.”

Jon slid down the back of the cabinet, but continued kicking the door.

“Let me out,” he croaked.  No response, just the sound of the apartment door splintering and the shuffling of feet as the world around Jon faded away.


	2. The Riddle Game

Jon woke up in a hospital room with a breathing mask on and a searing pain in his side.

Oh, and the dark figure of Batman looking over him and trying his very hardest to look scary and intimidating.  It wasn’t working but maybe with someone...weaker-willed, would find it horrifying.  As far as Jon was concerned?  He looked like a ten-year-old in a dumb costume, only six-foot-four and able to literally bench-press Jon.  Jon shut his eyes and racked his brain for a plan.  He needed to get to Arkham.

It was time for Jon to run his mouth off.

“If you’re trying to scare me it’s not working,” Jon sat up slowly, flinching with every slight movement, “and before you get angry and drag you off to Arkham; I didn’t do anything.”

“Then explain the stitches,” Batman replied.

“Okay, yes I did get stabbed,” Jon confirmed, “but I wasn’t doing anything illegal; that was Two Face.”  Batman narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything.  This wasn’t surprise, it was suspicion, concerning what Two Face was up to.  Jon ending up in the hospital because of Harvey?  Pretty normal, it was the question of what exactly Two Face was doing that was so illegal that was unusual and worth suspicion.

“Poison Ivy also pled not guilty to any crimes,” Batman commented, “She also knew it was you at the apartment, but finding the Riddler was a surprise to me.”

“Ed bothers me from time to time,” Jon replied, shrugging, “as for Pam, we agreed to lay low and convinced Bane and Firefly to do the same.  Only reason I’m cut up is because Two Face wanted to drag me into a plan and I said no.  Jackass can’t take no for an answer so I got the snot kicked out of me.  It’s not complicated.  You’re as used to it as I am.”

“Two Face wouldn’t keep someone alive if that were the case.”

“Mmm, I have some experience that says otherwise.”

Batman didn’t say anything, but tossed a small cube at Jon.

“You’re fidgeting,” he clarified.  Jon raised an eyebrow, but looked down and found his hands had absently begun fiddling with the small buttons and gadgets on the cube.  Jon shrugged and nodded.

“So I am.  Why do you always have these?”

“I’m used to your fidgeting, and Dick likes them.”

Jon smiled, “He’s a cute kid.”

“I have moderately bad news to go with that,” Batman added.

“I have to go back to Arkham, right?”

“Yes.  The police wanted you to wake up first, make sure you hadn’t been poisoned.”

Jon nodded and smiled.

All according to plan, and from the brief look he exchanged with Batman, he knew it too.

* * *

 

“Oh, you’re back,” Edward smiled.  Jon responded with a glare.  “What’d I do?”

“Locked me in a closet,” Jon replied sharply.

“That one of your triggers?” Edward flinched a little, “Sorry, I forgot.”

Jon took a deep breath, “It’s fine Eddie, Harvey forgot a lot too.”

“I can’t believe you two used to be...there is no PG way to describe it.”

“Lovers is literally the most PG way to explain it.”

“And now he wants you dead!”

“Not dead, roughed up enough that I’ve learned my lesson.  Apparently he thinks I haven’t.  Not surprised.”

Jon reached into the back of his mouth and produced a polished silver coin.

“Oh my god that’s disgusting,” Edward crinkled his nose.  Jon turned the coin over in his hands.  both sides were the same.  Harvey had always known that.  Leland had asked Jon to give it to Harvey at one point.  Even when he had, Harvey barely used it.  If he had his relationship with Harvey would’ve been more predictable, but it wasn’t.  In the end, Harvey must’ve realized he was no good for Jon and broke things off.  The coin was a parting gift, a symbol of good memories, happy moments, a shiny silver coin with two identical sides.  Two Face had a soft spot for Jon, it just was hard to notice from too far away.

Edward stretched, “Well, I’m already bored.”  Jon flicked his gaze up to Edward, then pocketed the coin.

“Of course you are,” he smiled.

“Well aren’t you?”

“Mmhm,” Jon smiled.  He was in, Ivy and Edward were ready to leave, it was time to get out.  Five minutes was one hell of a short time span though.  “Should we?” Jon glanced at Edward.

“You never offer to play the riddle game,” Edward gave a slight look of excitement and looked to the guards starting down the hall.

“Well do you want to piss off the guards or not?”

“Oh well if that’s the plan here I completely understand your motives.  Riddle me this: with pointed fangs it sits in wait, with piercing force it doles out fate, over bloodless victims proclaiming its might, eternally joining in a single bite.  What am I?”

“A stapler.”

“Riddle me this: when liquid splashes me, none seeps through. When I am moved a lot, liquid I spew. When I am hit, color I change. And color, I come in quite a range. What I cover is very complex, and I am very easy to flex. What am I?”

“Skin.”

“What are you two doing?” a guard rapped on Jon’s cage.

“Nothing of importance,” Jon replied, “keep going Eddie.”

“Riddle me this: we are all around, yet to us you are half blind. Sunlight makes us invisible, and difficult to find. What are we?”

“Oh Jesus Christ, he’s spewing riddles again,” a second guard groaned.

“Stars,” a grin spread across Jon’s face.  The first guard took a few steps back.  He was new, fresh out of the police academy with no clue what he was getting into, and he hadn’t seen Jon smile yet.  It was something to behold, wasn’t it?  An innocent-looking, doll-like face splitting into a grin that looked much too big for his face, and the sharp canines probably didn’t help that much.

“I told you we shouldn’t have put them near each other,” the second guard replied, “you okay?”  The first guard glanced at Jon, “Oh, yeah, he smiles like that.  Freaky ain’t it.”

“He shouldn’t be real,” the first guard murmured.

“Shouldn’t, does.  You should see him contort.”

“Riddle me this: what builds up castles, tears down mountains, makes some blind, and helps others to see?”

“Sand.”

“If you have it, you want to share it. If you share it, you don't have it. What is it?”

“A secret”

“This runs fore to aft on one side of a ship, and aft to fore on the other.  What is it?”

“What kind of riddle is that?” the second guard asked.

“It’s the name of the ship,” Jon glanced up at the guard, “keep up, won’t you?”

“Riddle me this: I have no voice and yet I speak to you, I tell of all things in the world that people do. I have leaves, but I am not a tree, I have pages, but I am not a bride or royalty. I have a spine and hinges, but I am not a man or a door, I have told you all, I cannot tell you more. What am I?”

“A book,” the first guard cut in before Jon could answer.  Jon and Edward exchanged grins and clapped for the guard.  The second guard punched the second in the arm.

“Don’t play along!”

“Sorry, I just kind of think riddles are cool.”

“Ah, spectacular!” Jon flashed a wild grin and made the young man back up a little more, “Continue Ed.”

“Riddle me this: although it is neither big nor small, nor liquid, solid nor gas, it can be broken without being dropped. What is it?”

“Silence.”

“Riddle me this: I was born in the 18th century yet still live on today. Appearing on TV when I have something to say. Called everything from ‘honest’ to a dirty rotten ‘crook’. I used to wear a wig but have had several looks. I've always had a party but never disturb the neighbors. I've been shot at, many times, major stories for the papers. What am I?”

Jon paused; he didn’t actually know that one.  That was a rarity, he usually knew all of Edward’s riddles.

“Stuck?” Edward tilted his head to the side.

“Yeah, new riddle?”

“Why yes, it is!”

“Yeah, never use it again, no one will ever solve it.”

“It’s the president,” the first guard glanced at Edward, “right?”

“You were saying Jon?”

“You lookin to get hit?  Keep going.”

“Riddle me this: what does no man want, yet no man want to lose?”

“Work.”

“Riddle me this: what is lighter than a feather and if you put it in a barrel it will make the barrel lighter?”

“A hole.”

“Riddle me this: what must you always buy, but never want to use?”

“A coffin, though that riddle’s a little off, I do believe it’s possible to make a coffin.”

“Please don’t spoil the game Jon.  Riddle me this: what has a head and a tail, but can never see its tail?”

“A coin.”

“I reach for the sky, but clutch to the ground; sometimes I leave, but I am always around. What am I?”

“A tree.  These are all old riddles from the first time we played this game.”

“Yes well you’re not much for that whole ‘new riddles’ from what I can tell.”

“One near-impossible riddle doesn’t make me stupid Ed, keep going.”

“Riddle me this: I sleep by day, I fly by night. I have no feathers to aid my flight. What am I?”

“A bat!”

“I hate that one.”

“Ed, you just hate bats.”

“Yes I do.  Riddle me this: I am a protector. I sit on a bridge. One person can see right through me, while others wonder what I hide. What am I?”

“Sunglasses.”

“This is a waste of time,” the second guard interrupted, “a fruitcake and a former doctor screwing with mind games.”

“Well,” Jon hopped to his feet and walked over to the guard, wrapping his hands around the bars of his cell, “it’s something to do.”

“Yeah well, you might piss off the other inmates, so I’d knock it off if I were you.”

“Eddie, do you care?”

“No.”

“Yes and I don’t either.  Driving people crazy is my job.”

“Yeah you’re as much of a fruitcake as Riddle-man over here ya little twig.”

“Don’t call me a twig!” Jon kicked the guard through the gap in his cage, “Asshole!”

“Oi!” the guard grabbed the collar of Jon’s shirt, “Watch it scarecrow.”

“That’s not much of an insult,” Jon carefully peeled the guard’s hand off his collar and dropped to the ground, “not really.”

“Just shut your mouths and sit quietly ya little freaks,” the guard spat and walked off, the other guard following behind.  Jon watched the guards walk down the hallway and gave a triumphant smile.

“Well he’s just a ray of sunshine,” Edward scoffed, “want to keep going?”

“I kinda wanna see if he’ll react to it or not,” Jon smirked, “keep going, I’ve got an idea.”  Jon backed away from the cell bars and began searching the cell as Edward continued.

“Riddle me this: what has wheels and flies, but is not an aircraft?”

“A garbage truck.”

“The beds are spring beds, by the way.  Riddle me this: the more you take away, the larger it becomes? What is it?”

“A hole.”

Jon began undoing the fasteners on one of the springs.

“Riddle me this: what turns everything around, but does not move?”

“A mirror.”

“Goddammit they’re still at it!” the guard’s voice echoed down the hall, “Come on, I’ll gag that little shit.”

“Riddle me this: I am a box that holds keys without locks, yet they can unlock your soul. What am I?”

“A piano, here he comes.”

Jon pulled the spring from the bed and hid it behind his back.

“Riddle me this: what is bought by the yard and worn by the foot?”

“A carpet.”

The guard, red in the face reappeared and glared between Jon and Edward’s cells.

“I said, shut up,” he growled.

“Riddle me this: it runs and runs but can never flee. It is often watched, yet never sees. When long it brings boredom, when short it brings fear. What is it?”

“Time.”

“Quit it with the riddles!” the guard yelled, “Or I separate the both of you.”

“That’s going to be rather hard,” Jon stepped up to the bars of the cage.

“And why’s that?” the guard asked.

“Oh simple really,” Jon shrugged.  He pulled the spring from behind his back and flicked it up to the guard’s face, slicing a line across his left eye.  The guard stumbled back into Edward’s cage, where Edward pulled the guard’s gun from his holster and held it to the guard’s head.

“Shit!” the other guard fumbled to pull out his own gun and pointed it at Jon.

“Shoot me, Ed shoots him,” Jon gestured to the guard Edward had, “Ed might shoot him anyways, who knows?  Just let us out and everything will just, solve itself.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Well, to be very frank, you can’t.”

“Jon, I thought we were trying to get out.”

“Let me finish Ed.  You can’t trust us, but let’s be honest here, you’re afraid, is that right?”

“How did you-?”

“Everybody reacts to fear differently, but some reactions are universal, constricted pupils, for instance, as well as increased muscle tension, which occasionally leads to clumsiness.  I have to say, if a hostage situation like this one scares you, you’re definitely not the type to who should be working in an asylum.”

“You’re insane.”

“Perhaps, but sane or not, I’m not the one who’s making the call on the state of your friend’s life.  Now let us out.”

The guard, still pointing the gun at Jon, unlocked his cell and opened the door.

“Thank you,” Jon nodded, “now then,” Jon snapped the spring at the guard and sliced his throat before walking over to Edward’s cell and opening it, “shoot him.”

Edward grinned and fired into the other guard’s head before stepping out.

“Brilliantly done Jon,” Edward praised.

“I’m aware, I don’t need fear gas to manipulate someone.”

“Apparently you don’t need it to kill someone either,” Edward nudged the dying guard over with his foot and made a face, as the boy was still gaping like a fish as blood ebbed from his throat, “Oh that’s unfortunate.”

Jon walked back into his cell briefly and pulled a needle from his mattress, then pulled a loose thread from the fitted sheet, “Hold that thought.”

“You’re saving him?” Edward raised his voice slightly.

“Mmhm,” Jon sat down beside the guard and threaded the needle.  The boy’s eyes widened and he began gaping faster, as if trying to say something.

“Shh,” Jon held a hand over the guard’s mouth, “this’ll hurt a bit.  Hold him Eddie.”

Edward rolled his eyes and held the guard down while Jon began stitching the wound on his throat shut.  It was shoddy work, and probably wouldn’t last, but it would keep the kid alive until the next shift rounded the corner, hopefully.  Just in case, Jon clicked the boy’s radio twice, a signal a few Rogues used to indicate to the other guards that they’d incapacitated a guard, but they needed medical attention.

“Done,” Jon got to his feet, “Next stop, Arkham property room.”

“Why do we need to do that?” Edward asked.

“I need something from there.”

“Your mask’s in your apartment.”

“I left a scythe in here last time.”

“A scythe?”

“Yes, a scythe, I can’t use fear gas without my mask, I’m not immune to it.”

“So you’re going to use a piece of medieval harvesting equipment.”

“Also there’s a spare mask in the property room.”

“How convenient.”

Jon sighed and walked away without another word.

“Do we happen to have a plan for Ivy?” Edward asked.

“Nope, was planning to wing it once we got my stuff from the property room.”

“You don’t have a plan.”

“The spring was an improvisation Eddie, I’m in pure adrenaline mode right now.  As far as I’m concerned, if you can break into Arkham with Harley Quinn, you can break out without a plan.”

“That’s a very interesting way of looking at it.”

Jon turned the corner and kept heading for the property room, or at least where he remembered it to be.

“Don’t you think it would still be collapsed?” Edward asked.

“They’d still be using it; it’s Arkham, they don’t care.  I’m pretty sure they haven’t changed their computer system in about six years.”

“Good start.”

“I’ll hit you Ed.”

Jon stopped at the property room, which was already heavily guarded.

“Did they already figure out we escaped?” Jon muttered, inching closer.

“She’s in the property room,” a nearby guard commented as a few more approached from the other end of the hallway, “I don’t know why, she didn’t have much on her when we brought her in, not even the first time.”

“Pam,” Jon leaned his head back, “well, we don’t need to bust her out anymore.”

“That’s one mystery solved,” Edward agreed, “but why the property room?  And how do you propose we break in?”

“Well,” Jon stretched out the spring in his hand and aimed it at the nearest guard, “get ready to run.”

“What?”

Jon released the spring and watched it hurtle towards the guard he aimed it at, hitting him square in the forehead and knocking him over.  He wasn’t dead, but he was distracted.

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run!”

Jon darted towards the property room door, the guards recovered from the distraction and began shooting.  Jon turned to see if Edward was heading in and a bullet tore into his shoulder.  Jon yelped, stumbled back, hit the ground, and scrambled to turn and run into the property room at the same time.  He slammed the doors shut and forced the heavy metal slide lock shut with a loud bang. 

“Who’s there?” Ivy’s voice rose above the lock’s echoes.

“No one important keep doing whatever!” Jon yelled loudly, “I was just _shot­_ , it’s not like I need medical attention.”

“Oh my god Jon is that you?” Ivy turned the corner, “Are you stupid?”

“Possibly,” Jon nodded, “I’m also bleeding.  How’s your week been going?”

“You could have waited,” Ivy held up a gas mask, “I figured you’d be out and about in a manner of minutes and that getting you a mask would be a good plan.  Except instead of waiting you went and got yourself shot trying to get in here.”

“I’ll be fine it’s not vital,” Jon snatched the gas mask from her and pulled it over his head, “I need two canisters of fear gas for the guards outside, also my scythe.”

“Do you also need bandages?” Ivy asked.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Ivy shook her head and walked around the corner, returning after a few minutes with two large fire extinguishers that had been cut open and then welded shut.

“I was talking about the other ones, but these’ll do,” Jon shrugged and yanked the pin out of one, “scythe?”

“First aid,” Ivy corrected, kneeling down beside Jon and wrapping gauze around his bleeding shoulder, “we can worry about the scythe later.”

“Way to ruin my fun.  You’ll need to stand clear once I start directing the gas.  This stuff doesn’t compress like carbon dioxide, backdraft is bit of an issue.”

“Oh good.”

“On the bright side, this is a newer strain I never got to test.  Shall we?”

“Go for it nutjob.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured the Riddler and Scarecrow are simultaneous little shits that would do that sort of thing to piss off guards for the fun of it, it's also possible that I planned about half of this, but hey, following a character's example right?
> 
> PS Ed didn't move, he's still behind the crates praying Jon isn't dead.


	3. Safe

“He’s not going to check your house again right?” Ivy asked, kicking open the shoddily replaced door.

“So he did put the door back,” Jon looked up at the door as he walked in, “backwards, but yes, I doubt he’d consider me stupid enough to do that, but most of my things are here, so I’m not about to leave them.”

“Where do I put the scythe?” Edward asked, following behind Jon.

“Remember that cabinet you shoved me in?  Put it in there.”

“You’re not still mad about that are you?” Edward asked, walking into the other room.

“Yes I am still mad,” Jon growled, “I need a drink.”  Jon pulled open a cupboard and pulled down a bottle of vodka that was sitting on the top shelf.

“I think that’s a little strong for someone who’s usually sober,” Ivy commented.

“I said I need a drink,” Jon cracked open the bottle, “I never said I wanted a drink that tasted good.  And when have I ever been sober Pam?”  Jon turned his back to Ivy and took a few gulps from the bottle.

“Don’t kill yourself there,” Ivy sat down calmly on the couch.  Jon slammed down the bottle beside him and made a loud retching noise.

“Who the hell thinks this is good straight?” he asked, sinking down to the floor, “it tastes awful.”

“I’ve never had it what’s it like?” Ivy asked.

“Have you ever accidentally gotten rubbing alcohol in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Like that.”

“Then don’t drink it.”

“Oh no I just needed a few shots to numb my shoulder I’m good.”

“So you drank it out of the bottle?”

“I don’t own shot glasses.”

“So you drank it out of the bottle.”

“My house I do what I want.”

Edward walked back into the room at this moment and immediately snatched the bottle away from Jon.

“This is not a sufficient anesthetic!” Edward insisted, returning the bottle to its place on the shelf, “Jesus Christ you drink like a fucking horse.”

“I think I prefer Pam questioning my life decisions to you policing them,” Jon retorted as Edward walked back around the counter.

“And I’d prefer you not get alcohol poisoning from trying to numb any pain you might be feeling with distilled potatoes.”

“Pam, could you put on the news?” Jon asked, ignoring Edward.  Ivy flicked on the television and immediately the scene of Arkham showed up on screen.

“Earlier tonight, there were reports of a break out at Arkham Asylum,” the reporter broadcasted, “though several guards were found dead, the body count appears to be at a minimum, and only three inmates are unaccounted for: the Riddler, Poison Ivy, and Scarecrow, all of whom had just been detained earlier this evening.”

“’Sright,” Jon rested his chin in his hand.

“I think that alcohol is getting to your head,” Ivy commented.

“Shut up,” Jon retorted.

“Though the three escapees have not been found, it was reported that one of them was injured in the escape attempt and that people should keep an eye out for these three suspects.”

Three mugshots flashed on the screen, the grinning idiocy that was Edward, Ivy looking extremely angry, and Jon, slightly blurred, as he was making a move for someone’s food just as the picture was taken.  Jon really wanted to know why GCPD hadn’t bothered redoing the mugshot.

“So our only worry is the landlady,” Jon laughed, “good thing she never shows up.”

“Why not?”

“I still pay rent it’s all good.”

“How do you pay the rent you don’t have a job?  How do you pay the bills without a job?”

“My neighbor hasn’t noticed I linked our accounts yet.”

“Identity theft?  Really?”

“Better than drawing attention to myself.  What do you propose I do?  Rob a bank?”

“Please don’t rob a bank Jon.  Not right now.”

“That was what Two Face wanted help with.”

“Oh wow, I’m shocked.”

“Two Face is the most predictable villain ever.”

“Joker.”

“Joker’s shtick is being unpredictable.”

“To the point where it is predictable.”

“Oh, yes, that is true.”

Jon stood up straight and clapped his hands together.

“Well it’s been a long night, Pam gets the couch, Ed gets the floor, don’t bother me or I gas you.”

Jon walked into the other room and collapsed onto his bed.  He wasn’t going to sleep, not yet, he was going to wait for Edward and Ivy to first.  Fear was just barely removed from caution, and as much as he knew those two probably wouldn’t kill him, he wasn’t about to risk it.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Ivy said after a moment of silence.

“I’ve been saying that for years now,” Edward agreed, “but he’s young, and debatably stupid.”

“Yes, most young men are,” Ivy agreed.

“I would disagree,” Edward countered, “I’ve known a good many young women who have done some stupid things in their past.”

“Name one then.”

“Harlene Quinzel comes to mind.”

There was silence from the other room.

“That’s mature.”

“Go to bed Edward”

“You’re still so sour about that after all this time?”

“Drop it and go to sleep Edward.”

“What are you trying to prove by telling Jonathan what to do?”

Jon flinched and sat up, neither of them called him by his full first name.

“That’s some tough talk coming from someone who follows him around like you’re his parent.  He was with you when he got shot, wasn’t he?”

“If I had been capable of stopping him, trust me, I would have stopped him.  But he thinks fast and acts faster.”

“You’re quick to shift the blame onto him for someone who fell right into an improvised escape plan.”

“I trust him, even if he is reckless; he’s intelligent.”

“I never said I didn’t trust him, but I am concerned for his safety.”

“So am I.”

Jon stood and walked into the room, Ivy and Edward immediately looked up at him in surprise.

“Besides the fact that no one falls asleep that fast,” Jon waved his hand, “I am an adult, I can take care of myself, and you need to learn when keeping tabs on turns into badgering and stalking.  I don’t need a babysitter.  From either of you.”  Jon walked out, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -subtly makes references to the end of Arkham Knight-  
> Actually, if you want me to be totally honest, I really don't like the ending to Arkham Knight, especially since the Scarecrow in the comics is immune to his fear toxin from prolonged exposure.  
> But I suppose there really is no other way to stop him...Except he's been stopped by Batman even with that immunity and people need to figure out a new way to get rid of fear-powered villains that isn't turning their greatest weapon into their greatest strength.  
> This was a short chapter with a lot of dialogue, I promise I'll add more prose next time.


	4. Two Faced

Maybe leaving one’s apartment while slightly drunk and recovering from a gunshot wound was not the best plan.

Especially considering that there’s nothing that moved quite like Two Face’s goons, that is, they didn’t quite get the memo that Jon had been at Arkham in the first place.  That or this was the first time Jon had left his apartment from the front door.  Considering the Batman’s reputation, Jon didn’t doubt that.

But that wasn’t exactly relevant to someone who was currently tied up, in a sack, and probably in the trunk of a car, one of those fancy cars that old people drive with at least four bodies worth of trunk space.  No one could say a night in Gotham wasn’t interesting for a good portion of the population.

Jon wriggled his way out of the ropes binding his wrists and pulled open the sack.

Well, he was right on one account, he was in the trunk of a car.

Jon flipped onto his back and began kicking the tail light.

“Wasn’t he in Arkham a few hours ago?” a voice from the back seat of the car asked.

“Kid must move fast, or hate getting locked in the loony bin,” another replied.

“Either way he’s dead meat,” a third voice cut in, instantly recognizable as Two Face’s.  Jon rolled his eyes and began kicking the tail light again.  Two Face wasn’t serious, but Jon never liked when he used the term “dead meat” in regards to him.

“He’s just a kid boss.”

“He’s not, too good in bed to be a kid, and even if he were, I wouldn’t care.  He should know a good offer when it’s given, and he also cost me three men.”  Jon paused and glared towards the back seat.  That was the first time he’d heard a compliment from Two Face in a long time.

“Wouldn’t have killed them if you’d hired better men,” he muttered, then kicked the tail light loose with one final kick.

He hadn’t expected it to clatter and scrape on the road as loudly as it did.  The car screeched to a halt and the car doors opened.

“What the hell was that?”

“He kicked the tail light out,” Two Face muttered.

The trunk burst open and Jon was pulled from the trunk by his hair.

“I’d stop trying to escape,” Two Face growled, socking Jon hard in the gut, then tossed him back into the trunk and slammed it shut.  Jon gasped for air and held his side.  He legitimately felt like he was about to throw up, but maybe that was just the fact that he was still somewhat drunk.

The car screeched to a halt again and Jon sat up.

“Police, perfect.”

“They probably don’t know it’s Crane in the trunk,” Two Face sounded amused, “take care of him; we’ll deal with the police as soon as he’s dead.”

“Oh hell no,” Jon shook his head and picked up the rope they used to tie him up, “I just got out, I’m not dying and I’m not getting tossed back into that damn asylum.”  The trunk opened and Jon shot under the goon’s arm, pulling the rope with.  He tossed one end around the goon’s neck and pulled both ends back.  The goon began flailing as he slowly went from red to blue, and blue to a sickly purple, then fell forward into the trunk.  The second goon ran around the side of the car and threw a punch, which missed when Jon ducked down to the ground and rolled under the car.  The goon knelt down and began feeling around under the car, the side of his head situated directly in front of the exhaust tube.  Jon looked from the goon’s hand to his head, and pulled the goon towards him by the wrist, impaling his head on the exhaust pipe.  Jon looked around to the front of the car and glimpsed Harvey’s shoes, nice, polished, black.  Harvey had an eye for good footwear, even if his taste in suits was bizarre.

Shots started firing, and Jon flattened himself against the pavement and inched towards the edge of the car, waiting for a break in the shooting.  It came when he heard Two Face let out a yell of rage and Jon darted out from under the car and into the nearest alley.  Jon didn’t know where he was when he stopped running, but he knew that his lungs were screaming for air and pain was coursing through his body.  A quick glance around told him he was near the docks, and that he could make it back to his apartment without much trouble.  Jon leaned against a wall and caught his breath, grinning a bit as Two Face stumbled over, swearing to himself.

“Why is it whenever I’m with you, I end up out of breath?” Jon asked.

Harvey didn’t look amused, and grabbed Jon’s collar.

“I should kill you,” he growled.

“One man unconscious and another dead,” Jon peeled Harvey’s hand off his shirt collar and held it out, “hardly new for me.”

Harvey brought his lips into a line.  From his expression, he seemed to be granting that Jon had a point.  Jon let out a slow sigh and glanced down the street.

“They gave up a few blocks back,” Harvey clarified.

“I think I have enough injuries for one day,” Jon raised his eyebrows.  Harvey glanced at the bullet wound in Jon’s shoulder.

“I see you’re still as reckless as ever,” he remarked.

“And you’re as unpredictable as ever,” Jon countered, “but it’s good to see you Harv.”

“Mm,” Harvey nodded, “I’m not sure if you saying that is a good thing.”

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s bad,” Jon shrugged, “maybe it just is, like we were.”

Harvey shook his head, “We were bad, awful, there was nothing good about us.”

Jon placed Harvey’s hand on his cheek, then turned to kiss it, “I reserve my right to disagree.”

Harvey quickly pulled his hand back, a brief flash of anger in his eyes, but then he lowered his hand and took a deep breath.

“Good luck laying low,” he said, “stay out of trouble ok?”

“You say that like I actively seek out trouble.”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

Harvey turned and walked away, and Jon turned in the direction of his house just as his cell began to ring.  Jon looked at the caller ID and bared his teeth, it was Edward.

Jon had half a thought to drop the damn thing in Gotham Bay, all things considered, but he answered it anyway.

“What?”

“We heard shots down the street what happened?” Edward asked, almost too quickly for Jon to comprehend.

“I got kidnapped by Two Face,” Jon replied, “I’m fine, but I’m up near Gotham Bay now.  Two Face had a run-in with the cops.  Oh and I calmed him down, so that’s also a thing.”

“How on earth is that fine?” Edward yelled.

“I’m uninjured but I’m now wanted for double homicide?” Jon guessed.

“Oh dear god Ivy he’s killed two men.”

“Good for him,” Ivy’s voice praised in the background.

“To be fair, they did try to kill me first,” Jon added.

“Policemen or goons?”

“Goons.  One suffocated and probably isn’t actually dead, but the other one’s impaled on an exhaust pipe so yeah he’s not coming back any time soon.”

“You impaled someone on an exhaust pipe?”

“I know what I said.”

“How?”

“Head, exhaust pipe, it’s not complicated.”

“Jon dear?” Ivy piped in, “Edward put him on speaker.”

“Yes Pam?” Jon asked.

“Good job kid.  Now get back here.”

* * *

 

“Good job?  Good job?  What kind of comment is that?” Jon heard Edward yelling as he approached the door, “He impaled a man on an exhaust pipe!”

“Edward, you’ve killed a number of people before; how is this anything different?”

“It’s an exhaust pipe!”

“I’m convinced your default is argue,” Jon commented as he walked in, cutting the argument short.

“How was Two Face?” Ivy asked, as if the argument hadn’t fazed her in the slightest.

“He punched me in the gut,” Jon replied, “but he was apparently happy to see me, after the initial argument.”

“You said he ran into the police?” Edward leaned on the kitchen counter.

“I did indeed,” Jon nodded, “but obviously, he got away.”

“Fantastic,” Edward nodded, “tell me, did that gunshot wound go through your shoulder or is the bullet still there?”

There was a heavy silence as Ivy and Jon stared at Edward.

“I didn’t check,” Ivy admitted.

“Mm I thought so,” Edward nodded, “your back doesn’t have any blood on it, which means the bullet’s still in there.”

“Your point?” Jon asked.

“Ivy, could you get that bottle of vodka and Jon’s first aid kit?” Edward asked, “I’m going to take out the bullet.”

“Pardon?” Jon raised his voice as Ivy stood and walked past.

“Well, I can leave the bullet in there and you can get heavy metal poisoning or an infection, and likely die as a result, or I can take the bullet out and stain your couch some more and possibly cause you excruciating pain and agony.”

Ivy returned with the bottle of vodka, a stack of dish towels, and a first aid kit and looked between Jon and Edward.  She was doing this all like it was standard procedure, probably because Jon had taken bullets out of shoulders a number of times, but this was different.

“Ed, you’re not a doctor,” Jon protested.

“You’re right, but I know how to take a bullet out.  Granted, removing it with tweezers and flimsy drugstore scissors is not the most painless procedure, and your apartment’s not the most sanitary, but that’s what the vodka’s for.  Oh could you also get some whiskey?  I know he keeps some in here.”

“Pam, do I have to trust him?” Jon asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Ivy nodded, shoving Jon onto the couch, “by the way, do you often hear a lot of screaming in this neighborhood?”

“Often,” Jon replied.

“Good,” Edward commented, “but just in case,” Edward stuffed a rag into Jon’s mouth, “you scream loudly, and I’m not keen on going deaf.”

Edward removed the bandages and doused the wound with alcohol to clear the dried blood.  Jon flinched from the pain and dug his nails into the couch cushion.

“O-kay let’s see how much I can avoid fucking up.”

Jon glared at Edward, then clamped his mouth down on the rag as Edward began cutting the flesh around the bullet wound.  Edward dug into the wound and held his hand out to Ivy.

“Tweezers.”

“Is it that deep in there?” Ivy handed off the tweezers to Edward.

“Yes,” Edward nodded, dousing the wound with alcohol again.  Jon let out a muffled scream and threw his head back as a searing pain shot through his shoulder.  Edward dug the tweezers into the wound.  Jon continued to scream and tried pulling his shoulder back.

“Stay still,” Edward gripped Jon’s shoulder and pulled the bullet from the wound, “here we are.”  Edward dumped the rest of the vodka bottle on Jon’s shoulder and pressed another rag against the wound.  “Now that wasn’t so bad now was it?”  Edward pulled the rag from Jon’s mouth.

“Are you fucking insane?” Jon yelled.

“Jon, I don’t think you can make that call when I just pulled a bullet out of your shoulder,” Edward retorted.

“Don’t act like it’s not that bad!” Jon snapped, “It hurt goddammit!”

“I said it would,” Edward replied, “so you need to calm down.  Do you have stitches?  I need to close the wound properly.”

“In the first aid kit,” Jon jerked his head towards the first aid kit, “you know I’m pretty sure you’re not qualified to remove a bullet.”

“Fun fact, you don’t need to be certified to remove a bullet,” Edward grinned.

“You also don’t need to be certified to relocate someone’s shoulder but they still suggest you go to a hospital,” Ivy commented.

“Do you really want Jon back in Arkham?” Edward asked, “Alone?  Isn’t that what gave him the bullet wound in the first place?”

“Noted,” Ivy nodded, “but I don’t want to kill him either.”

“He’s not about to die,” Edward shook his head and lifted the rag, letting it gently peel off, “no worries.”  Edward pulled out the needle and thread and began stitching up the wound.

“I’m amazed at the significance of how you two react to me almost dying when you’ve both killed hundreds,” Jon commented.

“I’m here because I like you,” Edward commented.

“Only because I’m not stupid,” Jon retorted, “and even then, only because I can solve your riddles.”

“Much of your personality lies in your intellect Jon,” Edward noted, “There isn’t much that can’t be attributed to your intelligence.  As for the comment that you’re not stupid…well there’s where I beg to differ.  After all, you did walk out of the building with a bullet in your shoulder, drunk.”

“I didn’t know the bullet was in there.”

“And you’ve also concocted a few…less than intelligent schemes over the years, though I applaud the scheme you pulled while inside Arkham, the one when we met?”

“Of course you like that one.”

“What’d he do?” Ivy asked.

“He filled the medical center with fear gas,” Edward replied, “highly concentrated fear gas.”

“I’m starting to wonder if that stuff should be labelled as a biohazard or not,” Ivy frowned.

“Actually, it is labelled as a chemical weapon by the government for its ability to kill in large doses,” Jon beamed proudly.

“How much of this stuff is stowed in your apartment?” Edward asked.

“Enough to kill…” Jon added up on his fingers, “at least fifteen percent of Gotham’s population if I released in onto the streets right now.  And when I say at least, that’s a severe underestimation because some of the gas is a more toxic variant and I’m not taking into account the people whose first instinct when their adrenal gland goes on overdrive is extreme violence, or people who are easily shaken and can be killed instantly from the shock.”

“So you’re saying in reality the kill-count is somewhere closer to eighty percent?” Edward looked up at Jon.  Jon quietly did the math and then shrugged.

“Ninety-five actually, I’ve never gotten around to using all of it, kept forgetting all the hiding places.”

“So some of it could be leaking right now?”

“No, it’s not really all that corrosive.  It’s probably about as corrosive as…distilled water.”

“I’m not exactly sure we’re safe in this apartment anymore.”

“We’re fine.”

“This is coming from someone whose solution to a gunshot wound is to drink vodka and refused to go to the hospital after being stabbed.”

“I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Yes, but I’m starting to wonder how.”

Jon threw his head back and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke up he found himself lying on his back in a warehouse.

“Sorry,” Edward’s voice spoke behind him, “someone tried to break in and set off one of your traps.  We’re in the back of the Iceberg Lounge.”

“And you’ll be paying back my favor with a job,” a familiar voice cut in.  Jon flinched.

Penguin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in rolls Two Face, looking extremely pissy and a stupid crack ship getting airplay it shouldn't have...also more proof of the commentary my friend Kat and I have on Scarecrow, simply titled: You need an adult.  
> Also cliff hanger, I dunno.


	5. The Iceberg Lounge

Penguin wasn’t like Two Face in a lot of ways.  You didn’t really know for a fact that he didn’t like you unless his men pointed a gun at you, and since Jon didn’t see any guns pointed at him, it was safe to assume Penguin wasn’t about to kill them.

That said, waking up in Penguin’s munitions warehouse and hearing that a job offer was underway was just a fancy way of saying “you can have guns pointed at you or you can take this job, your call.”

Jon got to his feet and looked around.  Penguin’s warehouse was always one of those places that Jon had broken into on occasion, but not often enough to know the place front to back, Penguin definitely wouldn’t be offering him a job if that were the case.

“Impressive feat last night,” Penguin commented, “You always were tougher than you looked Dr. Crane.  Took the liberty of moving all of that fear gas you hid around your apartment too.  You’re truly brilliant, but not all that good at being responsible.”

“I’m going to assume that that’s not a compliment,” Jon glanced at Penguin.

“Enough gas to fill the tallest skyscraper in Gotham,” Penguin raised his eyebrows and brought his umbrella around to the front, “emptied of all contents.  That much gas could kill more than half the city’s population you know.”

“I’m aware,” Jon nodded, taking that answer as a yes, “I’ve never quite gotten around to using it.”

“Well you’ll probably have a chance to use some,” Penguin turned and through the rows of boxes, gesturing for Jon and Edward to follow, “I’ve been having a bit of trouble with that clown, started showin’ his face on my turf again.”

“Wait Joker’s back?” Jon stepped up beside Penguin, which not a hard feat honestly, Jon was taller and Penguin had a limp, “Oh, that’s the last thing I need right now.”

“It’s the last thing anyone needs,” Penguin agreed, “the loon thinks he owns this city, but that’s beside the point.  Take a look at what I found some of his men truckin’ across the docks last night.”  Penguin lifted a tarp over several canisters with toxicity symbols plastered on the front.  Jon recognized the symbols, he’d put them there.  “This here is about twice what we found in your apartment,” Penguin added, “and unfortunately, it’s only half the shipment, everything’s filled with a variant of your fear gas.  We took a look with one of the barrels, it also happens to be concentrated.”

“No honor among criminals huh?” Jon snorted, “that many barrels though…taking every bit of psychology into account…twice this could wipe out the entire city and then some.”

“And they called this the third shipment,” Penguin dropped the tarp, “which means Joker’s not only stealing your life’s work, he might be tryin’ to frame you for what he probably thinks will be the biggest riot in Gotham history.”

“Joker’s seen what this stuff does,” Jon shook his head, “he knows that if he releases enough fear gas into the city, he’ll kill the entire city in a matter of hours.”

“With this much gas?  Make that minutes Crane,” Penguin corrected, “we reported it in to the government, but it turns out they can’t send Task Force X into Gotham until Nygma here’s dead, or they find a way around their current tracker issue.”  Jon glanced over at Edward and raised an eyebrow.

“I won’t apologize for genius,” Edward shrugged.

“That’s not genius that’s screwing the Wall,” Jon retorted.

“How do you know about that?”

“Oh you think I’ve never worked for Waller?  Cute.”

“That aside,” Penguin interrupted, “I was asked to find someone suitable enough to take care of this issue before it becomes a national emergency.  I figured the man who made the toxin would be a suitable candidate.”  Jon glanced at Edward, then at Penguin.

“You wouldn’t ask me to do this if you didn’t have an offer to give in return,” Jon crossed his arms.

“Government is willing to drop all charges,” Penguin turned to Jon, “and I’m willing to give you a permanent job with me.”

“What’s that entail?” Jon asked.

“Getting rid of enemies, testing to see if new recruits are up to snuff,” Penguin counted off each point with his thick fingers, “occasionally you may be asked to help Task Force X when they need it.  You’ll be contracted by the government and given full immunity.  Besides, it would so me some good to have someone scary working for me.  You can keep the Riddler.”

“I’m not a pet,” Edward cut in.

“Yes, but you follow me around an unorthodox amount,” Jon pointed out, “what about Pam?”

“I gave her the same offer, she agreed to help but turned down the job,” Penguin replied, “I can’t say I blame her for not being interested.  She’s not an opportunist like you.”

“I’m in,” Jon shrugged, “as long as I can still use this fear gas I’m fine.  Not quite finished with my experiments.”

“Then you’ll be allowed to use it,” Penguin agreed, holding out a hand, which Jon quickly took, “You’re free to walk around, Ivy’s out in the lounge.”

Penguin walked away, leaving Jon and Edward alone.

“He trusts you too much,” Edward commented.

“Or he knows I’m not keen on having guns pointed at me every time I walk into the Theater District,” Jon retorted, lifting the tarp again, “fifty barrels of concentrated fear gas, and I thought he was smarter than this.”

“Joker?”

“No, a fairy,” Jon glared at Edward, then turned back to the barrels, “to his credit, there would be a riot, briefly.”

“Unless he’s planning to release it steadily,” Edward suggested.

“Still would kill everyone eventually,” Jon shook his head, “You can’t just steadily force people to breathe a toxic gas, ever seen a carbon monoxide death?”

“Yes, I have,” Edward nodded.

“It’s a lot like that.”

“Except with more screaming and less drowsiness.”

“That’s…one way to put it.”

Edward nodded and walked away.  Jon stood for a few more minutes.  This still didn’t add up.  Joker loved chaos sure, but deaths were more of a collateral damage thing with him.  He didn’t actively seek to kill unless he was pissed off.  A bunch of fear gas?  A riot ending in death?  This wasn’t Joker’s shtick, far from it.  This was worse, deadlier.  And worst of all, it wasn’t funny.

“I’m going out to the lounge,” Edward broke Jon’s train of thought, “care to join me?”

“Might wanna get changed first,” Jon dropped the tarp and followed after Edward.

“As if I wouldn’t get changed, look at me!” Edward gestured to his suit, which had a few tears and stains, but wasn’t really anything to make a fuss about considering the person he was talking to wasn’t even wearing a shirt, or shoes.

“You look fine,” Jon replied, “I’m not even wearing a shirt.  But, if we’re going to be at a nightclub, might as well look good in the process.”

Edward raised an eyebrow in confusion, but followed after Jon, deeper into the warehouse to where Penguin kept random clothing for anyone who really needed it.

Jon certainly did.

* * *

 

The Iceberg Lounge had the façade of a ritzy nightclub, considering a lot of lowlifes liked hang around there.  That said, the person who ran it _was_ Penguin, all things considered.  You never really knew if they worked for Penguin or just hung around a place where no one got arrested to avoid Batman.  Everything was sleek, black, and clean, from the floor to the hardwood bar.  Jon walked over to the bar and tapped a black nail on the counter, then turned back to Edward.

“This place always impressed me,” Edward commented, looking around the lounge.

“You’re just easily impressed,” Jon replied.

“I am not!” Edward protested, then looked Jon up and down, as if he hadn’t noticed what Jon was wearing, “Ok I just noticed right now but what the fuck is that shirt?”

Jon looked down at his shirt and back up at Edward, “It’s a shirt.”

“Are you trying to get laid?”

“No I just liked the shirt.”

“A fitted racerback.”

“I’m wearing skinny jeans and have a flannel wrapped around my waist, but the shirt is what’s bugging you.”

“The whole thing is bugging me, you look like a teenage punk.”

“That’s a new one,” Ivy strode up, “though not inaccurate.  I like the shirt.”

“Thank you,” Jon puffed out his chest, then got straight to business, “so this shitshow we all just signed up for.”

“Yeah I had a question about this,” Ivy nodded, “how exactly was Joker capable of getting ahold of your fear gas?”

“I stash it,” Jon shrugged, “and forget about it.  That or the bat catches me, you know how that is.  He never searches anything I’m not right next to during a heist.”  Ivy nodded and tossed her red hair.  Jon got a whiff of lavender, and gritted his teeth.  Ivy’s pheromones didn’t affect him, but they affected others.

“Pam don’t do that,” he said

“Why not?” Ivy pouted innocently.

“You just turned at least three heads,” Jon glanced round Ivy at some gawkers.  There were more than three; three was a severe underestimation.  They weren’t just gawking at her, but that _was_ where most of their attention was.

“Oh but then I can kill them,” Ivy grinned.

“For the love of god, don’t.”

Ivy scowled and leaned forward.

“Bite me straw man,” she spat.  Jon raised his eyebrows and drew back slightly, pretending to be insulted.  After a few minutes, the two burst out laughing.

“I have one question,” Edward interrupted, “how are we going to _find_ the Joker?  Batman’s looked in every logical place.”

Jon snapped his fingers, “Logical!  That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Ivy raised an eyebrow.

“Batman’s checked in every _logical_ place, but this is Joker we’re talking about.”

“So….” Edward frowned, “look in an illogical place.”

“Remember the bomb from last month?  Joker hid the bomb in Arkham.  Bats would never think to look for it in Arkham because Joker can’t get in unless he gets caught on purpose.”

“So, we need a genuinely dumb place for Joker to hide,” Ivy nodded, “Fantastic.  Where would that be?”

“Black Mask’s territory?” Edward suggested, “He hates Joker.”

“Eddie, you’re a genius.”

“I know, wait, I am?”

“Black Mask, he hates everyone in Gotham, especially Joker.  No one would think to look for Joker there either, not after that fiasco a few years back.  And I know the first place to look.”

“Please don’t tell me we’re going to walk into Black Mask’s territory and head straight for one of his most used warehouses,” Edward rested his head in one hand.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Jon nodded.

“ _We’re all gonna die_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG.
> 
> And I also told everyone on my tumblr I'd post on Friday so GUESS HOW WELL THAT WENT.
> 
> But yeah, small housekeeping updates: Chapters 1-4 have been massively edited, the verse has flipped because it didn't take much finagling, there ARE ships, they're just super lowkey so...yeah....uh......
> 
> I missed writing this.


	6. An Essay on Why Clowns Are Creepy

There weren’t many bad ideas quite like waltzing into Black Mask’s territory, much less breaking into his favorite abandoned warehouse.  Edward was emphasizing this by singing under his breath about how they were all going to die.

“Hey just a thought,” Jon turned to Edward and covered his mouth, “but maybe singing in the warehouse that is owned by a psychopath that will torture and kill us if we’re caught _will get us caught faster_.”

Edward nodded and Jon turned back to the warehouse.  It was clean, but deserted.  Someone had been there today, but they’d left at least an hour ago.  Jon slipped out and looked over at the doors.  Those were guarded, so it would be a good plan to be quiet.  There was a fine line between how Two Face and Black Mask dealt with trespassers, and that fine line was essentially three weeks of brutal torture and a painful death.

“If he is here, he’s been hiding really well,” Ivy remarked, stepping out into the middle of the warehouse, “what does Mask do here anyway?”

“Tortures victims, I’d wager,” Jon walked over to a nigh unrecognizable body and nudged it with his foot, “GCPD.  Mask must be paying off cops again, or trying to.”

“Well, if he keeps it up he might get a few boys in on it, young skittish ones,” Ivy raised her eyebrows, “that’s an old one.  Three weeks I’d say.”

“I’d say four months,” Jon disagreed, “frozen to death.  Frostbite on the extremities, deep freezerburn on the face and torso.  Probably took him out as a warning.”

“To who?” Ivy asked.

“People like us,” Jon shrugged, “idiots.  Come on, we have a clown to find.”

“You’re making this sound less and less appealing,” Ivy remarked.

“I tend to.  In all honestly, I don’t want to be here but I have no choice, and neither does-Edward don’t touch the body.”

“Why is it black?” Edward sounded concerned.

“Today on ‘literal genius has no idea how the human body responds to stimuli’: Edward discovers frostbite,” Jon rolled his eyes, “come on Eddie, let’s not kill braincells any more than we need to.”

“If Black Mask knows someone’s in here, we’ve got to be on the right track,” Edward hurried to catch up, “I mean, why else would he leave a body there that’s been dead for so long?”

“Better question is why we didn’t bring weapons to subdue a psychotic clown,” Jon muttered, “hold that thought.”

Jon began scaling a pile of crates, then pulled himself onto a catwalk.  Jon stood and looked back and forth.  The catwalk was empty, save for a few spare crates, but Jon had a bad feeling about being up here.  Jon started towards a stack of crates, moving as slowly as he could so he didn’t make too much noise.  A clanking came down the catwalk and Jon stopped.  The clanking continued.  It was like heels on metal.  Jon didn’t see anyone approaching from in front.  He turned and immediately found himself faced with a gun and a familiar red grin.

“Hello Scarecrow.”

Jon bared his teeth, “Oh fuck me.”

Joker grinned, “Trust me Jonny, I’ve considered it.  You’re cute and all, and I’d love to see how loudly you’d _scream_.”

Joker backed Jon into a railing and placed his hands on either side of Jon’s hips.  Jon held back a swear.  He was trapped, Joker had one-upped him in that regard.

“So,” Joker grinned and leaned forwards, positioning himself inches away from Jon, his breath reeked of whiskey, “what brings you to Black Mask’s warehouse?  Don’t you know a little bird like you needs to avoid playing with the big boys.  After all, you’re already a pretty _tender_ little peach.”

Joker dug the heel of his hand into Jon’s side and laughed as Jon cried out in pain.  The bone of Joker’s hand was digging right into the gash there.  Crying out only made Joker press harder.  Jon forced himself silent and gritted his teeth.

“And there’s also here,” Joker removed the hand, but pressed his thumb into the still fresh bullet wound on Jon’s shoulder.  Jon screamed and moved to grab Joker’s hand, but Joker caught Jon’s wrist before he got the chance.  Joker leaned in close, leaning his weight on Jon’s body and pushing him into the catwalk railing.  Jon swallowed in an attempt to not gag at the smell of whiskey and stayed as still as possible.  He felt sick, and not just because of Joker’s foul breath.

“Oh, and Black Mask will be oh so happy to see you,” Joker grinned, “we had a little...arrangement.  I get to hide out in here until I gather up all of your fear toxin, and he gets a free pass out of Gotham before I start steadily releasing it into the atmosphere, conveniently killing the whole city and then some and inciting the biggest riot in US history.  Maybe I’ll drag you up to watch your life’s work destroy the city.  Keep you as my new pet.  After all, Harley won’t survive, will she?”

“You’re sick,” Jon snarled.

“Well it _is_ your toxin, I thought you’d take pride in your work.”

“I don’t take pride in murdering an entire city.”

“But pushed far enough?  You would.  This will just be...a headstart.  I’ll put in a good word with Black Mask so you’re not disfigured too much.  Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face, now would we?”

“Go to hell.”

“I’d love to,” Joker grinned, “but I’ve got fear toxin to gather up and a riot to prepare for, other things you needn’t worry about, but they involve you.  Mask!  Got another one up here!”

Joker grabbed Jon by the back of the neck and pulled him over into full view of Black Mask and his goons.

“Perfect,” Mask sounded way to happy to see Jon, “got any requests?”

“I want him alive by the riot,” Joker replied, “and do save his voice and his pretty face, among other, you know, necessary things,” Joker grabbed Jon’s crotch and grinned.  Jon yelped and tried to push Joker’s hand away, but the clown held fast.  Joker leaned up too close for anything relating to comfort (if there was any left considering where Joker’s hand was) and added, “I mean I’ll need a new pet to play with if I’m killing Harley.”

Mask nodded and gestured for two of his guards to go up and drag Jon down.  Before they could even move Joker turned Jon’s head towards him and mashed his lips against Jon’s, forcing his tongue in.  Jon felt something get forced to the back of his throat and he swallowed uncomfortably as Joker pulled away, his mouth tasted like salt and whiskey, a gag inducing taste.

“Also kill Nygma first,” Joker tossed Jon into the railing and held him there with one hand, “Riddler fancies all my pets and I’m not big on sharing this one.”

“I’m not a pet,” Jon snarled as the goons dragged him towards the stairs.

“You are now boy,” Mask said, then waited for Jon to be closer, “I suppose torture is a mercy though, you’ll be acclimated to pain by the time Joker gets you back.  Anything he dishes out will be mild, in comparison.”

“You lay a hand on Jon and there’ll be hell to pay clown,” Ivy shouted.

“Ivy, Ivy, tsk, tsk,” Joker clicked his teeth and shook his head, “How will there be hell to pay if you’re dead?”

Joker burst out laughing and the room started to twist and spin, Jon’s ears began to ring.  Jon doubled over and vomited, his knees buckled and the goons holding him were struggling to just keep him standing.

“Jon!” Ivy’s voice was barely an echo, and Joker’s laugh was becoming increasingly hard to ignore.  Jon’s brain was a fuzzy mess, but he had every idea of what was happening.  At some point, when Joker was in close contact with him, Joker had drugged him.  Jon knew exactly when, and it was working perfectly.

The world spun, Jon hit the ground with a thud, and everything stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one big long 10 page chapter.
> 
> I cut it in half and the second part is next chapter.
> 
> Enjoy~


	7. A Mask

Jon woke tasting salt; he was a little sad to say he knew the taste a little too well.  It certainly settled things though, on top of the pounding headache and the fact that his limbs felt like they weighed a ton each, definitely rohypnol.  Jon gagged from the taste, it was disgusting, and mixed with an aftertaste of whiskey it was even worse.  As his vision cleared he saw more and more of the situation he’d gotten himself into.  He was in a gray room, the floors, walls and ceiling all concrete.  A single door sat in front of him.  As for Jon’s position, his wrists were bound with thick leather straps that hung from the ceiling on chains.  Despite his height, Jon’s feet couldn’t even graze the ground, and his ankles were bound similarly to his hands.  Even if Jon got free, it would take a long time.

“Well,” Jon muttered to himself, “ _this_ rings familiar.”

The lock on the door opened with a clack and two men stepped in, one Black Mask, the other an unfamiliar goon carrying a concerning container.

“You know you probably shouldn’t get your bindings from fetish stores,” Jon recommended, “people might get the wrong idea.”

“You’re hilarious,” Mask muttered, “Joker wanted me to be gentle with you, and considering he’s excluding me from dying, I’m obligated to comply.”

“How generous,” Jon smirked, “let Ed and Pam go and then maybe I’ll be nicer.”

“Can’t save Nygma, Joker wants him dead,” Mask shrugged, “can’t say I blame him, considering his plans for you.”

Jon mimicked gagging and Mask let out a sound that Jon hoped was a laugh.

“You’re a pretty funny kid,” he admitted, “no wonder Nygma and Joker have taken a fancy to you.”

“I pray to god you don’t,” Jon raised his lips into a snarl.

Mask scoffed and began circling Jon slowly, “I have to be gentle apparently, and avoid places Joker might...need.  I don’t know why he’s requiring I be gentle, maybe he wants you to be able to move, or scream.  Either way.  I have legs, arms, and an entire upper torso to work with,” Black Mask lowered Jon to the ground, “let’s begin.”

Mask fastened a collar around Jon’s neck and wrapped his hand around it.  The leather dug into Jon’s skin for a moment before Mask swung Jon into one of the concrete walls.  He pulled Jon back and slammed him into the wall over and over.  Jon didn’t have time to scream or cry out, the most he could muster were gasps for air and the occasional pained grunt.  When Mask finally stopped, he moved his hand up to hold Jon’s head against the wall.  Out of the corner of his eye, Jon watched Mask draw a glowing hot rod from the container the goon brought in.  For a moment, he held it a few inches from Jon’s face, giving Jon a very clear idea of exactly how hot the rod was.  Mask raised the rod above his, head, then brought it down on Jon’s back and held it there for a few seconds, almost as if savoring the inevitable scream Jon let out as the rod seared his flesh.  He repeated the strike and hold pattern two more times before switching out the rod.  The brief pause was all Jon needed for the pain to ebb slightly.

By the time Black Mask was done, his entire back was burning, and the room reeked of burnt human flesh.

“I’ve kept my promise to Joker,” Mask pressed a hand against one of the burns on Jon’s back, drawing a pained cry from Jon, “and I’ll keep it until it’s necessary to give you to him.  Trust me on this, you’ll suffer far more in Joker’s hands than in mine.”

The door opened again.   Mask lifted his head and turned to the door.  Jon glanced in the same way and bared his teeth when he saw it was Joker.

“What?” Mask snapped.

“I wanted to watch,” Joker leaned on the doorframe.

“A little late for that,” Mask gestured for the man to leave, but addressed him as he left, “bring me a bucket of ice water.”

“Ice water?” Joker raised an eyebrow.

“Water cleans the burns, freezing water against hot skin hurts,” Mask replied, “this is slow torture, and I need to keep him alive, right?”

Joker nodded.

“I’m putting him in a lot less danger than drugging him,” Mask added, “besides, if he’s numb to the pain, he’ll last longer.”

Joker set his mouth in a line, then grinned, “Got a point there Masky.  So,” Joker walked over to Jon and leaned on the wall next to him, “stunning hospitality they’ve got here, right?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jon spat, flinching as the words left his mouth.  It hurt just to speak.  Joker tutted and pat Jon on the cheek.  Jon snapped at Joker’s hand and he retracted it just as quickly.  Joker made an irritated face and kicked Jon in the stomach.  Jon gasped and sank to his knees, doubled over and holding his stomach.

“Jonny, Jonny, Jonny,” Joker shook his head, “such a silly pet,” he turned to Mask and the soft teasing dropped off his voice, “how much more today?”

“Not much more today,” Mask moved aside as the henchman from before shuffled in with a bucket, “and I’m skipping tomorrow for him.  If you want him in good shape I need to scale back considerably just to keep him from screaming himself hoarse.”

Joker glanced at Jon as the henchman overturned the bucket onto his back.  There was a soft hiss and a shock of searing cold shot up Jon’s back.  He yelped and contracted inwards.  He gritted his teeth and glared daggers into the concrete floor, trying to focus on the spots of water dripping down from his back.  Ahead, Joker was snickering.

“And the other two?”

“I’m pretty sure Nygma’s out cold.  Ivy’s tough though, I left about an hour ago and she could still move a little.”

Jon glanced up at the two, then side-eyed the open door a few feet away from them.  He looked back at the henchman.  Hesitant, young, kid couldn’t be much older than 18.  Jon took a deep breath and spun towards the boy, flattening his hand onto the inside of the bucket and slamming the bottom of the bucket into the boy’s face.  That obstacle out of the way he darted for the door and almost made it through when he was grabbed by the back of his neck and yanked back in and thrown into the far wall.  Mask slammed the door shut and walked up to Jon.  He did not look happy.  Joker stole a quick glance at the door, and for a moment, almost looked disappointed, like he’d been hoping Jon would get out, but that brief moment ended as soon as it began, he had turned his attention back to Mask and Jon.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Mask grabbed Jon by the arm and pulled him close enough that Jon could smell his breath, “you’re not keen on confined spaces, right?”

This, apparently, wasn’t something Joker wanted to have anything to do with, and immediately stepped between Mask and Jon.  He hadn’t said a word, but as a quiet gesture that he still wasn’t on Jon’s side, he grabbed Jon by his jaw and slammed him into the wall.

“That one’s a no,” Joker added, “people can have their trauma’s Masky, I won’t have you rub Jon’s in his face.”

Mask let out a low growl and looked at the boy Jon had slammed in the face with a bucket.  The boy had a bloody nose he was attempting to calm down, but it didn’t appear to be working all that well.

“Get me a whip,” he snapped, then pointed to Joker, “I’ll let it slide this time Joker, but you’re here to watch, not tell me what to do.”

Joker didn’t reply, but he did step aside so Mask could string Jon up with those leather straps.

Mask walked out for a moment and Joker strode up to Jon and cupped his cheeks in his hand.

“I have it on good authority he doesn’t lock the cell doors after torturing his victims,” he whispered urgently.

“What the fuck do you care?” Jon spat.

“Oh silly,” Joker grinned and raised his eyebrows, “I don’t trust Masky as far as I can throw him.  You and your friendsies get your asses out of here and I’ll think up a convincing cover for your escape.  I’ll call it human error.  It’ll give you time to get out of the city before anything too bad happens.”  Joker grinned and leaned in close, “I expect a proper thank you when this is all over, okay Peaches?  A _proper_ thank you, not some half-assed spoken one.  Okay?”

Joker’s hands lowered to Jon’s shoulders, then trailed down his chest.

“None of this adds up, this idea isn’t funny enough to be yours.”

“Jonny, Jonny, Jonny,” Joker smiled, “everything will make sense when the smoke clears my dear.”

Joker held a small round pill up to Jon’s lips, then pushed it into his mouth and down his throat, almost making Jon gag in the process.

“That’ll numb the pain a bit,” he added, “it won’t be enough but it will do something, that’s a lot more than I can say for most things.”

Jon coughed and nodded.

“Why are you helping me?”

Joker smiled, “Because I like you.  Do I need another reason?”

Jon narrowed his eyes and Joker let out a laugh.

“Also fucking you will be a lot less fun if you’ve been tortured for a week,” Joker added with a shrug, “a lot less screaming and less payoff, just more bruises.”

“What makes you think I’ll let you touch me like that?” Jon scoffed.

“Mm, no idea,” Joker shrugged and stepped back, patting his cheeks, “I mean, you just let me stick ecstasy into your mouth, so obviously I’m doing something right.”

Jon paused, then realized his vision was starting to warp.

“Well it’s been fun tater tot, but I gotta fly and Masky needs to whip the shit outta you,” Joker grinned as he pulled open the door, “love ya.”

The door slammed shut and Jon’s head began to spin.  It was too hot, his mouth was dry, but any pain he had been feeling was gone, and in its place was something akin to...god Jon had no idea, it just felt _good_.

Jon burst out laughing.

He just got the joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone stop Jon.


	8. A Very Bizarre Rescue

Jon had to admit, he was regretting several things at the moment, one of them was letting Joker force a powerful psychoactive drug down his throat.

He had one hell of a headache and it kind of felt like he’d just gone three rounds with Killer Croc.  He hadn’t, but that’s certainly what it felt like.

Jon cracked his neck and continued down the hallway, looking for any other unlocked cells.  He hadn’t found any yet, nor any patrols.  Jon assumed Black Mask thought none of his victims would be mobile after the number he did on them.

If there was one benefit to Joker drugging him, it was that Black Mask had apparently decided whipping Jon raw was not worth finding out how Jon would react to pain while high on ecstasy.

Jon turned a corner and walked headlong into an outstretched bat.

And now his headache was even worse.

“Oh my god Jonny?  Are you okay?”

Jon looked up at the horrified blonde above him.  She looked as if she’d just walked out of her house, clad in only a bikini top and shorts.  In all likelihood, she had, indeed, just walked out of the house, considering she was unmasked and her signature pigtails were loose and low, like they’d been tied in a hurry.

“No,” he replied, “unrelated to the baseball bat.  But it did hurt.”

“Well come on,” Harley pulled Jon to his feet, “up we go.  Found Eddie and Ivy a few minutes ago.  They’re already outside.  We’d better hurry, before Masky or Puddin finds us.”

“Mm,” Jon nodded and followed Harley out of the building and into a large, split-colored van.

“So,” Harley shut the doors of the van and leaned over Jon, “what have we got on this situation?”

“Well,” Jon propped himself up on his elbows and glanced at the driver, “hey Harv.”

“Details Beanpole,” Harvey reminded Jon, “greetings can wait.”  Jon nodded.

“Right.  Maybe you can help Harl, because there’s something fishy on my end.  Apparently, Joker and Black Mask are working together, some sort of plan to flood the whole city with Fear Gas and kill everyone here.”

“Doesn’t sound like something Puddin would do,” Harley frowned.

“Sounds like something he’d do to me,” Ivy snapped.

“No, she’s right,” Jon waved dismissively towards Ivy, “Joker usually pulls big public stunts for humor, body count is generally pretty low.”

“There’s still a body count,” Ivy commented.

“You say that like you don’t have a body count,” Jon scoffed, “but this, I don’t know I’m looking at it from every angle and it’s just-not funny.”

“Does it need to be funny?” Harvey asked.

“You’re asking if a man dressed like a clown needs his schemes to be funny?” Ivy raised an eyebrow.

“Point taken.”

“Though in all reality,” Ivy leaned forwards, “I’m curious to know how you two can tell if a plan would be funny to Joker or not.”

“The man drugged me with ecstasy to get Black Mask to leave me alone,” Jon shrugged.

“That gave me one hell of a mental image,” Harley raised her eyebrows, “I didn’t mind it.”

“I did,” Ivy crinkled her nose, “and I didn’t have it until you mentioned it.”

“Aw, but Jon’s cute in bed.”

“Harley,” Jon interrupted, “I don’t think Pam is very interested in my sex life.”

Harley made a face as if shocked that anyone would find anything she was talking about uninteresting.  Jon raised his eyebrows and Harley stuck her tongue out teasingly.

“I have questions,” Harvey added.  Jon sat up and turned to the front seat.

“No,” he said firmly.

“They weren’t that bad.”

“No.”

The car went silent and Jon shifted over to where Edward was lying, unconscious, on the floor of the van.  Jon pushed his hair out of his face and trailed his fingertips down a red mark on his face.  Edward stirred, screwing his face up in mild pain, but then relaxed.  Jon placed a gentle kiss on Edward’s forehead and whispered a quiet Latin prayer, hoping desperately that he’d be okay.  He was intact, but he looked bad.

“Think he’ll be okay Jonny?” Harley asked, her voice low and soft.

Jon took a deep breath and shrugged.

“I haven’t got a clue.”

“We’ll worry about it when we get there,” Harvey said.

“Get where?” Ivy leaned over the front, but Harvey pushed her back into the cargo space.

“The clinic,” Harvey answered, “you stay away from me.”

“Asshole.”

“Don’t even start with me.”

Edward flinched and let out a cough, blood came with.

“Tell me we’re almost there,” Jon hissed to Harvey.

“Why?”

“He’s coughing up blood.”

“For FUCK’S sake.”

Jon turned back to Edward and held him tightly.

“Don’t you die on me,” he hissed, “don’t you dare.”

Edward let out a soft groan, and Jon bit his lip.  He felt Harley wrap her arms around him.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Harley promised.

“You’re just saying that.”

“But it helps,” Harley insisted, “it helps.”

Jon ran his fingers through Edward’s hair and didn’t say anything else.  He’d always promised himself he’d never get attached; he wasn’t supposed to get attached.  Getting attached always led to bad things happening to the people he got attached to.  Jon was beginning to think he was a bad luck charm, a jinx, whatever you wanted to call him, he just made everything worse for everyone.

Jon took a shaky breath and prayed that Edward would be alright.  He had to be alright.

He just had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....Did I mention half this fic is me being an ass to Jon?
> 
> I think that's a pretty big detail.


	9. The Clinic

“I cannot believe you,” Leslie Thompkins sighed loudly, hooking an IV up to Jon.  When she was done, she slapped him upside the head.  “It’s a wonder you were conscious when you got drugged the first time.  No food in your system, still slightly buzzed, two badly sewn injuries one of which is in your shoulder...have I missed anything?”

“Three cracked ribs,” Jon added.

“Oh and to top it all off you let a man drug you, _twice_.” Leslie smacked Jon with her clipboard, “ ** _You’re a doctor_**.”

“I never purported to be a responsible doctor,” Jon noted.

“I suppose you didn’t,” Leslie agreed, “I’ll tell you when Edward’s awake.”

“He’s gonna be okay, right?” Jon clarified.

“He won’t die, if that’s what you’re asking,” Leslie replied, walking to the door, “anything else?”

“Have you seen Joker recently?” Jon asked.

“Unfortunately, why?”

“Do you know what’s going on with him?”

Leslie shut the door quickly and lowered her voice, “Listen, I usually stay neutral in rogue matters but you’re in danger.”

“You think?”

“For fuck’s sake Jon, be serious for one second.”

“I know I’m in danger; Joker was pretty clear on what he wanted from me.”

Leslie crossed her arms, “Yet you refuse to take that danger seriously?”

“I’m not big on taking danger seriously.”

“Hugo Strange.”

Jon froze.

“Leland told me what he did.”

Jon stood, feeling a little more than angry, “You have no right to bring that-that **_monster_** up.”

“Jonathan I’m bringing it up because you are blowing off someone who is **_worse_** than Strange.”

Jon paused and leaned back on the gurney, still seething.

“Strange waited, he was patient and he was manipulative,” Jon commented.

“And you know full-well Joker is not patient, and knows you don’t trust him,” Leslie added, “even if he doesn’t know about Strange everyone sees how you flinch from contact.  I want you to be careful, because Joker is far more dangerous than Strange could ever hope to be.”

Jon scowled.

“Also, this was for you,” Leslie handed Jon a small card.  Jonathan stared at the neat text on it.

_We have a mutual interest._  
Meet me at the Iceberg Lounge.  
Bring a Batkid.  
-Waller

Jon looked up at Leslie, who shrugged.

“I have one in the back if you-” Leslie began before Harley kicked open the door, dragging a confused and annoyed batkid clad in all yellow with her.

“JON HE’S COMING WITH US HE’S WEARING A HAPPY COLOR,” she bellowed.

Jon looked down at the batkid, who looked about zero percent ready to go anywhere with anyone and a little more like he wanted to punch Harley in her big happy face.

“You wanna help us save Gotham?” Jon asked.

“I want to be put down,” the batkid replied.

“If you help us Harley might put you down.”

“Sure, I’ll help.”

“Good answer.  Harley, put him down.”

“Are we bringing him?” Harley asked.  Jon held up the card.

“We have to.”

“Yay!” Harley threw up her hands and promptly dropped the poor batkid.

“Why am I a requirement?” the batkid asked.

“Because apparently saving Gotham with government assistance requires an adolescent vigilante,” Jon shrugged, “I honestly don’t know.  Can I have your name?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t have to be your real name, just something to call you that isn’t ‘yellow batkid’ or whatever Harley wants to call you.”

“Signal.”

“I almost wanna take it back and ask for your real name that’s a horrible name who gave you that?”

“I picked it out myself.”

“You are forever judged.”

“Great, whatever, why do we need to save Gotham?”

“I’m a careless trainwreck and now Black Mask and Joker are planning to flood Gotham City with Fear Toxin.”

“Good.”

“Right?  So are you helping?”

“Are you going to survive?”

Jon looked down at himself, “I’m standing, aren’t I?”

Signal nodded and gave a slight smirk.

“It’s almost like being with the Batfamily.”

“I know aren’t we great?”

Leslie started for the door, but turned back, “I’ll get you all clothes and tell you when Nygma is mobile.  Rest up until then, you’ll need your strength.”

“Can I have a gun?” Jon asked.

“No.”

“Can I have a knife?”

“No!”

“If I steal a scalpel will you strip search me.”

“No.”

“Okay I’m stealing a scalpel thanks!”

Jon smiled wide and Leslie rolled her eyes before walking out.

“A scalpel,” Signal repeated.

“Most lethal thing I can think of that Leslie won’t miss.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Signal’s face got serious for a second and he stood.

“Do you really think we can take care of Black Mask and Joker?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Jon looked at the door, then back at Signal, “I’m not sure, at all.  I have no plan, nothing.  If it comes down to the wire and we’re the one thing between Joker and the destruction of Gotham, I haven’t got a clue if we’ll even succeed.”

“Then why bother?” Signal asked, “None of you have shied away from hurting Gotham before.”

“This is different,” Harley said, “We’ve got stakes kiddo, our own lives, the lives of our friends, Jon’s freedom.”

“Gotham may be a playground for us, but we refuse to see it fall,” Jon concluded, “no self-respecting Gothamite would.”

Signal looked out to the streets outside and smiled.

“So which of them do you think is being extorted?” Signal asked, “And which is doing this for an ulterior motive.”

Harley raised an eyebrow.

“What?  You think Black Mask isn’t a self-respecting Gothamite?” Signal asked.

Jon glanced at Harley, who was frowning, and a realization dawned on him.

“After we meet with Waller I need to steal something from her,” he said quickly heading over to grab a piece of paper to draw something.

“Steal from Waller?” Harley raised her voice.

“Joker has an ulterior motive but like I said his plan doesn’t add up,” Jon said, “it’s not funny.”

“Yeah,” Harley nodded, “what’s your point?”

“Black Mask hates Joker, there’s no way he’d work with him, even for his life, unless something was at stake.  Signal, have you seen Batman since I broke out of Arkham?”

“No.”

“Exactly,” Batman should’ve followed us to Black Mask’s warehouse but he **_didn’t_**.  He’s not in Gotham.”

“So where is he?” Signal asked.

“I don’t know but he’s looking for whoever’s putting Roman up to this.”

“And Joker?” Harley asked.

“In return for me and possibly you, he’s in on it, man knows Gotham like the back of his hand, but one person knows it better.  The one person who can hack into Waller’s files and give us the name we’re looking for.  The real mastermind.”

“Who?” Signal asked.

“Lonnie Machin,” Jon flipped the pad around to show an anarchist symbol he’d etched into the page, “Anarky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -kicks in door- I'M BACK BITCHES.
> 
> I'm updating this fic a lot, but I was really hyper about adding Duke and literally this much set-up y'all might as well get him now.


	10. Transparency

Waller looked at Signal, then back at Jon, an eyebrow raised and looking for an explanation.

“Harley liked the yellow,” Jon clarified.  Waller raised her eyebrows and nodded.  Jon continued, he was intent on answers he knew Waller wouldn’t give him.

“You know who’s putting Mask up to this.”

Waller nodded.

“Who?”

“That’s classified.”

“Classified?” Signal gave a slight snarl, “Are you saying that for our safety or because the person behind this works for the government.”

“Kid, you sound like Lonnie,” Jon remarked.

“Good.”

“Classified because as it stands you’ll probably barely defeat Black Mask and the Joker,” Waller snapped, “if you do at all.”

Jon shot a glance at Signal, who despite having a mask on looked unconvinced.

“So why’d you request we bring the kid?”

“I want collateral to be at a minimum, so you need someone to rein you in.”

“A batkid was a bad choice.”

“I’m not calling in Batman, he’ll also keep you from breaking the law.”

“Why does she assume what Batman’s doing is legal by any stretch?” Signal whispered.

“No, no,” Jon shook his head, “she’s right.  He’s an exception to the breaking the law part.  He once busted me for gambling while breaking and entering.”

“Why were you gambling?”

“I was broke.  You’ve never done something stupid for money?”

Signal paused.

“How old are you?”

“I’m in my late twenties.”

“I thought you were older.  You’re a doctor.”

“I am a doctor.  Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m not a doctor.”

Waller cleared her throat, “Dr. Crane, you know what I want.”

“I also know you’re only coming to me because you’re desperate,” Jon planted his foot on the edge of Waller’s desk and grinned, “you only come to rogues like me when you’re desperate.”

“Rogues like you?”

“Rogues that aren’t scared of screwing you over when everything’s said and done.”

Waller didn’t respond, in fact she seemed to purse her lips and pretend Jon hadn’t just ripped into her carefully crafted composure.  Jon tilted his head to the side and waited patiently for Waller to find some ammo to hurl back at Jon.  When she didn’t seem to find any that wouldn’t give too much away, she straightened up and looked Jon dead in the eye.

“You have stakes in this too,” she remarked.

“I do,” Jon nodded, “my life’s work is being wasted on mass slaughter and a homicidal clown wants to turn me into his personal sex toy, so yeah, I’ve got stakes, but let me ask you something Miss Waller.”

Jon leaned in, “Who do you want from me that Penguin can’t know about?”

Waller narrowed her eyes and glanced at Signal, who was standing trying to not to look scared by the two people radiating malice right in front of him.  He was doing a pretty good job, better than the present Robin, Damian.

“Nothing, I’m here to give you a hint,” Waller held up a slip of paper, on it was a scrawled address Jon knew fairly well.

“Strange’s old apartment building.”

“Strange’s current residence,” Waller corrected, “as much as I enjoy you stumbling about like an idiot, I need you alive Dr. Crane.  Strange has information you don’t.”

“Like who’s really behind this?” Jonathan guessed.  Waller nodded.

“How much are you willing to give up to save your city Dr. Crane?”

Jon snatched the paper from Waller and bared his teeth.

“You’re welcome,” Waller smiled slightly, “good luck, Dr. Crane.”

Jon strode out, Signal trailing behind them.

“Well?” Edward raised an eyebrow, leaning on a wall to disguise that he could barely stand.  Jon held up the paper.

“She says Strange knows information we don’t and can help,” he said.  Harley crinkled her nose.

“I purposely drive around his street,” she said.

“I don’t want to go either,” Jon sighed, “but if Lonnie can’t get what we need, I suppose he’s...moderately good at giving answers.  When he’s not trying to pretend I’m his pet.”

“Jon that’s concerning,” Ivy admitted.

“I know it’s concerning, but I want answers,” Jon grinned, “so if nothing comes out of visiting Lonnie, we’re going to visit Strange and we’re leaving the minor in the car.”

“I’m 19,” Signal said.

“Do you want to go into Strange’s apartment?” Jon asked.

“No.”

“Yeah you’re staying in the car, Harley can babysit you.”

“Mazel tov!” Harley shouted, leaping in the air, then danced around singing about how she didn’t have to talk to “Skeevy Strange”.

Jon smiled, but the smile was short lived.

He’d been avoiding Strange for weeks, months even.  He never wanted to go near that man again.  It had been years but somehow the scars were still too tender, figuratively and literally.

Jon crossed his arms and looked at the people around him.  Harley, Ivy, Harvey, Edward, he didn’t want to lose them, and if he didn’t speak with Strange, there was a chance he could.

This was exactly why Jon hated getting attached to people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly am spoiling all of you with these chapter updates, aren't I?
> 
> Anyway, GET READY FOR MY ANTI-ESTABLISHMENT SON Y'ALL. Seriously Lonnie is my son, I love him and his dumb face so much. Also get ready for some Bane, Bane is always nice, even if I do have to spend ten minutes staring at a list of Spanish slang whenever I write him so I'm not fucking shit up. I mean I gotta do it with my OC Audrey too but still.
> 
> Also some other housekeeping:  
> -Riddle me This and Questions will be updated this coming week, probably on Monday. I have a fall break coming up and am planning to get that and some stuff for a Pathfinder campaign taken care of. Between the 12th chapter of this (if there's anyone I hate writing more than Joker, it's Hugo fucking Strange) and another work I'm in the middle of I need some happy fluff time with my boys where I don't have to think about Hugo Strange.  
> -I promised my buddy Q I'd do a Lovecraft Jonathan Crane AU because Q wanted some body horror and I'm obliged to provide, so if you're not squeamish/like yourself some body horror, keep an eye out for that.  
> -I've Been Chasing My Tail, a Harlivy/Scriddler fic I've been plotting, is still in the works and I will probably finish it out by the time the Gotham segment of this fic is fully posted. I'm nearing on the end of that segment in writing.  
> -I finally have some decent logistics set up on my Lantern Rogues AU so if you wanna see Jon, Harley, Ed, and Lonnie fuck shit up because I gave them Lantern Rings, keep your eyes peeled.  
> -Until I get some idea of what to do next, Never Again is on pause.  
> -When it All Comes Crashing Down is giving me trouble, I will post a new chapter as soon as I resolve the issue.  
> -I'm writing some stuff on the Bolton Incident in my verse, it's...something and I'm not sure if I'll post it.  
> -I appreciate comments, it's kinda awkward/super exciting when a friend sends me screenshots of people gushing about my work on tumblr over Discord and like...I had no idea...I think I have anon on.  
> -I'M REWRITING BATMAN TERROR! I really don't like that arc in the comics, mostly for plot and writing reasons, so I decided to rewrite it as it would happen in my verse. It won't be canon compliant with this fic, but it will be canon compliant with Riddle me This, it takes place about a year before that one.  
> -I love myself some suggestions for AUs, fics, and arc rewrites. Comments can be left and I will get to them when I can.


	11. A Den of Allies

Lonnie moved a lot, allegedly it kept Batman off his tail but Jon wasn’t too sure about how true that was.  Batman barely knew anything about Lonnie to begin with, so most Rogues found his choice to move a lot...over-cautious at best.

For the past month Lonnie had been running his operations out of _El Torero_ , the bar his best friend worked at and also Bane’s present front for trafficking.  Bane had free wifi and also particularly liked Lonnie’s brand of anti-authoritarianism, the bar was essentially made for Lonnie to hide out in, whether avoiding his apparently iffy home life, or running the sort of gang most Gotham criminals weren’t actually sure qualified as a gang.  It was more of a conglomeration of really pissed off kids run by a ginger with a septum ring.

Jon liked the atmosphere in _El Torero_ , it was inviting.  Most of Gotham’s Rogues had been in at least once, but only a few stuck to the place.  Jon, Selina, and Lonnie were regulars, even when it wasn’t Lonnie’s base.

Jon scanned the crowds of men, soaking in the welcoming warmth and maybe a tinge of the Spanish he couldn’t understand for the life of him.  He was looking for someone.  A tall wiry man with intelligent eyes and a crooked mouth.  A man whose elbows were a web of needle scars and who you’d never recognize as the same man who had broken the Bat.

Then Jon saw him, leaning back in a chair and inspecting a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Bane.

“I’ll take that,” Jon pulled the bottle from the man’s hand and took a swig.  The drink burned his tongue more than usual and he paused to look at the label.  Cinnamon whiskey, Jon had forgotten about Bane’s fondness for it.

“ _Mestizo_ ,” Bane gave a curt nod, speaking in more irritation over his lost whiskey than anything else.

“By that word’s definition, you are too,” Jon commented, sitting down at the table and gesturing for Signal and a very overwhelmed Edward to sit with him.

“ _Si_ , but it applies better to you,” Bane agreed, “you’re looking for Lonnie?”

“Is he here?” Jon asked, taking another swig, “Because the only other person that could help me is Strange.  You know how I feel about Hugo.”

“You don’t call him Hugo much,” Bane muttered.

“And you don’t usually start off conversations bringing up my blood quantum,” Jon retorted, “I know I didn’t catch you in a bad mood or I wouldn’t have this bottle.”

“You’d also have a broken hand.”

“ _C’est la vie_.”

“ _Pour vous_.”

“Okay hi,” Signal raised his voice, cutting the casual chatter off, “is Lonnie here?”

Bane nodded.  He turned to the bar and shouted out a few words in Spanish to the vibrant-haired bartender.  The girl stood up straight and nodded before heading into the back.

“It’s Duke,” Bane added, turning back, “I know the voice, Duke Thomas.”

Jon glanced at Signal, looked him up and down, and smirked.

“Cosmo Krank’s friend?” he translated.

Signal, Duke, nodded, “We’re friends.  How’d you know?”

“You’ve been here,” Bane replied, “you go to school with Lonnie and Audrey, if I recall.”

“We don’t talk much,” Duke waved off the comment.

“Not with them, with Mal,” Bane nodded, “I remember things better than most, boy.”

Duke shrank in, and Edward looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Don’t worry,” Jon added, “Angelo’s a tight-lipped son of a bitch.”

“Call me by my first name again and I will break you,” Bane snapped.

“ _Jefe_ ,” the bartender spoke up as she approached, Lonnie right behind her, fidgeting with his phone.  Bane nodded and muttered something else and the bartender returned to the bar.

“Oh look the happy couple,” Lonnie grinned, “or have you still not popped the question?  Cowards.”

“You don’t want me to bring up all the times you turned into a sputtering idiot when you first met Audrey,” Bane commented.

“I make no comments on my personal bravery,” Lonnie countered, “I am a proper coward.  Hi Duke.”

“Dude!” Duke sounded insulted.

“You think I’m gonna call you Signal?  Look at Nygma, he looks like a kid a Christmas.  Someone told him.”

Lonnie sat down between Jon and Duke.

“So what can I hack and why would I want to?” he asked.

“Amanda Waller’s classified files,” Jon answered.

“Okay, I like a challenge.  What’s in it for me?”

“Your life.  Joker and Black Mask are stockpiling fear toxin.  I’ve got three more people outside who are helping us stop them before they release it into Gotham.”

Lonnie stared at Jon for a few seconds before shrugging and turning to his phone.

“Those are fair stakes,” he conceded, “one problem though.”

Lonnie turned the phone to Jon, it was a mess of code.  Jon could safely call himself smart, but he couldn’t read code.  He had no clue what it meant.

“Someone really doesn’t want me to know about this because that is a phone home script, and not a government one.”

Lonnie slid the phone to Edward, “Recognize it?”

“Okay you lost me at ‘phone home script’,” Duke admitted, “why can’t you access the files?”

“He can but the files will send the coder his IP when they’re decrypted,” Edward replied, “so he can access them, but he can’t actually read them.  This is really sophisticated too, it’s not Batman’s coding, his looks a lot like Garfield’s.”

“WayneTech coding,” Lonnie corrected, “it looks like LexCorp’s coding was used as a base, but I don’t know who uses LexCorp coding to encrypt their files.  Most Gotham Rogues use WayneTech.”

“Roman,” Jon groaned, “Janus Cosmetics is partnered with WayneTech and LexCorp.  Roman’s blocking the access.”

“Which means the coding is Paisley Prince,” Lonnie added, “I’m scared of Paisley so I’m gonna go with a hard no on decrypting this.  Sorry.  This is way too complex to bypass.”

“You can hack the Batcave on that,” Bane commented.

“The Batcave doesn’t have a near impossible to bypass phone home script,” Lonnie retorted, “look, I wanna help, I really do, but I’m not risking anonymity by trying to bypass this.  Waller has to have given you a contact.”

Jon groaned and rested his head in one hand, “She did.”

“Was it Strange?” Lonnie asked.

“Yes.”

“I’ll set up monitors,” Lonnie offered, “Bane and I can keep tabs from here.  If that makes you feel safer.”

Jon glanced at Lonnie and slowly nodded.

“It does.”

Lonnie smiled and stood, “I’ll set up, good luck.  Oh and Ed?”

“Mmhm?” Edward raised an eyebrow.

“Punch Sionis in the face for me, will you?”

“You got it you little shit.”

Bane took the whiskey from Jon and took a sip.

“Do you really want to do this?” he asked.

“Save Gotham or talk to Strange?” Jon asked.

“Both.”

“I’m not sure if I’m doing this for Gotham.”

“It doesn’t seem that way to me either.  As a word of advice, trust the people you’re committing yourself to save.  It’ll do you some good.”

“I’ve never been good at trusting others.”

Bane nodded, a familiarity settling between them.  Jon soaked in the warm atmosphere of _El Torero_ one more time.  He didn’t want to leave it, but he had no choice.  He had people he wanted to save, and a single major obstacle to getting there.

Hugo Strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of the Spanish and French in this chapter is pretty common knowledge but I know "mestizo" is not so I am going to explain that one.
> 
> "Mestizo" is a Spanish word that's crept into a few other languages as slang, but Bane is using the term as it was originally used in Latin America. The word itself means something similar to "mixed" and refers to people of European and Native American descent. In the world of this particular fic, Jonathan is half-Native American.


	12. Stranger Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a forewarning, this is literally my most uncomfortable chapter, if you don't feel comfortable at any time while reading this: Stop reading. I had to take several breaks while writing this chapter.

It was like Strange was expecting them, which already made Jon uncomfortable.  The door was unlocked and Jon didn’t even have to knock before there was a muffled “come in” from within.

“Just Jon,” Strange ordered before even coming in sight.

That just made Jon more uncomfortable.

Jon glanced back at Edward and Ivy, who both looked concerned, Harvey just looked ready to fight.  Jon flicked out the scalpel he stole from Thompkins in an attempt to reassure them, and Edward gave a forced smile and pulled Jon into a hug.

“Be careful,” he urged.  Jon hugged Edward back and took a deep breath.

“I’ll shout if I need help,” he promised, “wait here.”

Harvey gritted his teeth and Ivy inclined her head slowly.  Jon slowly shut the door and turned back to the entryway.

“I’m here,” Jon raised his voice, and Strange rounded the corner, smoking one of his putrid flavored cigarettes.

“You are,” Strange smiled slightly, looking Jon up and down with his leering eyes.

“Those things are going to kill you Hugo,” Jon remarked.

“You’re an alcoholic Jon, I hardly think you have room to talk,” Strange replied, “you need my expertise.”

“For once you know more than I do,” Jon nodded.  Strange nodded and beckoned for Jon to follow.

“I’m surprised you agreed to come in alone,” Strange noted.

“You don’t have a good track record with disobedience,” Jon answered, “and I’m rather attached to those three.”

“I noticed,” Strange strode into a room and sat in a high backed chair, blowing out a puff of chestnut-flavored smoke, “Edward Nygma is a...respectable choice.  I prefer him to that insufferable woman Harley’s taken a fancy to.”

“Pamela’s my friend.”

“But, excuse my French, you wouldn’t fuck her,” Strange took another drag of his cigarette, patting his lap with his free hand, “well?”

“You’re delusional if you think I’m going to do that,” Jon snorted, “I hate your cigarettes and I hate you.”

“Yes, but you want help, and you know I won’t give it to you if I’m not satisfied,” Strange replied, “come along my little doll.”

Jon gritted his teeth and stiffly approached Strange, flinching as the man wrapped his arm around Jon’s waist and pulled him down to sit on his lap.  Strange blew a puff of smoke into Jon’s face and Jon held back a disgusted gag.  It sent back a flood of memories Jon had been perfectly content keeping in the back of his mind.

“So,” Strange rested his chin on Jon’s shoulder, “what’s this about?”

“Joker and Black Mask are stockpiling fear toxin.”

“Doesn’t sound like either of them.  Black Mask is being blackmailed by my guess.  Joker can’t be bought though, so I take it he’s in on it for a more...physical reward.  I take it that’s you.”

“Yup.”

“Hm,” Strange took a drag of his cigarette, “Joker doesn’t know how to treat a gentleman, or a lady for that matter.  Still, I don’t imagine you really enjoy your work being stolen, much less the attentions of a madman.”

Jon grunted and Strange shifted his grip so he was carefully running his hand up and down Jon’s inner thigh.  Jon gritted his teeth and ignored the gesture as best he could.

“So you want to stop them, must be hard without knowing who put them up to it,” Strange tapped his index finger against the cigarette, “I take it that’s what your problem is?”

Jon nodded, trying to control his breathing.  Strange smiled.  He was enjoying himself far too much.

“For five seconds can you stop imagining me naked and help?” Jon asked.

Strange blew another plume of smoke into Jon’s face.  This time Jon didn’t even hold back a disgusted gag.

“You’re looking for someone who can control the Joker and knows a secret Sionis doesn’t want to get out to people,” Strange noted, “and someone who would happily see the Batman die.  It can’t be R’as al Ghul, he has a vested interest in keeping Batman alive.”

Strange pouted slightly, thinking.

“Vandal Savage would consider just attacking Gotham too low of a target, it would be beneath him to even dare.  There’s really only one option left.”

Jon raised an eyebrow.  Strange grinned wide and leaned in close.  His breath on Jon’s ear sent a shudder down his spine.

“Lex Luthor,” he whispered, “but you didn’t hear it from me.  Now, Luthor has a shell company a few blocks west of here, that’s probably where he’s storing the toxin,” Strange glanced at Jon.

“Anything else?” Jon asked.

“One more thing,” Strange took another drag, “but you’ll have to kiss me for it.”

Jon bared his teeth, but turned to Strange and mashed his lips into Strange’s, trying to ignore the discomfort welling in his gut.  The discomfort ended abruptly when Jon felt a burning on his leg and realized Strange was putting out his cigarette on Jon’s thigh.  Jon tried to push away but Strange’s other hand shoved him back.  A searing pain was running through Jon’s leg, and Strange was holding Jon in place for as long as he wanted.

Jon flicked out the scalpel up his sleeve and drove it into Strange’s arm.  Strange was quick to shove Jon off and slapped him across the face for good measure.  Jon scrambled to his feet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I always forget you like hiding things,” Strange pulled the scalpel out of his arm and threw it at Jon.  It missed, but it grazed his ear before hitting the wall with a loud thwack.  Jon didn’t flinch, he was too angry.

“You slimy son of a bitch,” Jon muttered.  Strange stood and started towards Jon.  Jon quickly backed away and Strange stopped.  He let out a sigh and tapped his lips with one finger, as if thinking.

“You used to trust me.”

“I was a stupid kid then,” Jon snapped, “I know better; you taught me to know better.”

“So instead of trusting me, you trust a riddle-obsessed flake,” Strange caught Jon by the throat, but didn’t close his hand enough to cut off breathing, “how often have you stuck your neck out for these people and not gotten anything in return?  Ivy poisoning you, Harvey trying to kill you, Harley making up excuses for that clown freak?  Are these people really the ones you want to get attached to?  You know you’re in trouble, you promised to call if you needed help, so why aren’t you screaming?”

Strange forced Jon against a wall and leaned in close, “You don’t trust them to help when you need it, that’s why.”

Jon grabbed a wandering hand of Strange and brought his heel down on his foot.  Strange bellowed in pain and Jon scrambled for the door.

It was locked.  Somehow, it was locked.

“You didn’t think I was just going to let my pet leave, did you?”

Strange’s arm wrapped around Jon’s waist and he let out a soft laugh.

“Get off of me,” Jon snarled, trying to pull himself free, “Let me go.”

Strange turned Jon around and Jon found his arms pinned, and himself face-to-face with Strange and his uncanny grin.  A shudder ran down Jon’s spine.

“You know my rules,” Strange shifted his hands under Jon’s shirt, “you don’t leave until I’m satisfied.”

Jon opened his mouth and let out a shrill scream.  Strange quickly released Jon and shoved him away.  His obsession stopped where his self-preservation began, most of the time.

The door broke open and a familiar hand weaved into Jon’s and began pulling him back.  Jon turned back to see Harley’s terrified face as she started pulling him away.

“We’re leavin’ Jonny,” Harley sounded frantic, “You and me we’ll leave that creep to Red and Eddie, okay?”

Jon slowly nodded, still a little dazed and Harley pulled him out into the street outside.

“You’re not hurt right?” Harley asked.  Her hand lingered on the red mark on Jon’s cheek.

“I’m fine Harley,” Jon said softly, “worst the happened was the he put out a cigarette on me.”

Harley pouted, but nodded.

“How do you do it?” she sat down on the bed of the van, Duke was sleeping, his eye cracked open as Jon approached, but closed again.

“Do what?” Jon asked.

“Stand up to Strange like that?  I can’t even look J in the eye and it’s been years.”

“Practice,” Jon admitted, “Harley it’s not like I wasn’t scared.”

“But you don’t freak out!” Harley raised her voice, “You don’t panic or back down or-I’m such a wimp.”

Harley pulled her knees to her chest and hid her face.  Jon stared at her for a few seconds, then sighed.

“Harley, being afraid is fine, if anything what I’m doing is unhealthy.”

“No it isn’t.  It’s brave.”

“I’m afraid of Strange because I know he’s capable of hurting me.  You’re scared of Joker because you know he can hurt you.  Do you really think it’s brave to stand up to someone you know can beat you senseless?”

Harley looked up at Jon and slowly shook her head.  She had tears running down her face.

“Then why do you think I’m brave?  I’m only here because I’m more scared of losing all of you than I am of Strange.  Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“What’re you talking about?” Harley wiped her eyes.

“Harley,” Jon smirked, “who’s in love with a plant?”

Harley scoffed and shoved Jon.

“Tell me,” Jon sang, poking Harley’s side.

“You’re so mean,” Harley whined.

“Who’s in love with a plant?”

“I’m in love with a plant.”

“Who loves that plant more than she’s scared of clowns?”

“Me.”

“Who’s gonna punch me in the face if I keep going?”

Harley grinned and flicked Jon’s forehead.

“You’re the best Jon.”

“I thought we’ve been friends long enough for that to be implied.”

“I mean it is but like-” Harley stopped and turned as Ivy and Edward emerged from the apartment, “Red!”

Ivy smiled, and Jon hopped down from the van.  Edward dropped the blood-spattered cane in his hand and ran forwards to hug Jon tightly.  Jon let out a relieved sigh and hugged Edward back.

“You need to stop doing that,” Edward hissed.

“Doing what?”

“Worrying me.  You’re going to give me gray hairs.”

“I’m sorry.”

Edward didn’t reply, he just sighed with relief and held Jon tightly.

Jon smiled and buried his face into Edward’s chest.  His usual musty smell was masked by the metallic stench of blood, but he didn’t care.  He felt safe.  He never felt safe.

It was a nice feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not fond of this chapter but considering it's a set-up for a later reveal I needed it in here.
> 
> I hate Strange, I hate writing Strange, I hate that I decided Strange's inclusion would beneficial to the plot because it means I have to write how he interacts with Jon and ew.
> 
> Anyway, I will try to update other fics soon, but I'm hung up on this and some other stuff


	13. Stakes

Harvey leaned on the horn, and Jon quietly considered how little he’d missed the man’s roadrage.  It really was as bad as everyone thought it was, and it didn’t help that he sped.  Jon figured the police were just too scared to pull him over and that’s the only reason Harvey had a license.

Anyone in Gotham who said the police were necessary for law enforcement had never actually met an officer.

“Why is he driving?” Edward asked.

“Two of us don’t have a license and the third’s is suspended,” Jon replied.

“I was only going seventy,” Harley protested.

“In a fifteen,” Ivy added, “sorry, let me amend that, _in a school zone_.”

“I have no excuse I was driving between cars,” Jon shrugged.  Duke stared at him before Jon added, “Motorcycle.”

The van screeched to a stop and Harley tumbled forward, landing flat on her face.

“Spectacular,” Jon complimented, Harley sat up and gave a proud salute.

“I try.”

Jon kicked open the van doors and hopped out.

Gotham’s LexCorp building stuck out like a sore thumb.  Even Star Labs tried to blend with Gotham’s gothic architecture, LexCorp just looked like a Metropolis building dropped between two cathedrals.

Neither building it stood between was even remotely a religious building.

It was also an eyesore, all points and chrome and mirrored glass.  Jon recalled a number of times where it melted holes in cars and set nearby buildings ablaze on cloudy days.

“You know,” Harley leaned on Jon, “maybe we should’ve parked down the block, you know, because of the building.”

“Harley, it’s midnight.”

“Yeah but just in case we don’t leave until the sun comes up.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“It makes no sense to you because you’re a scrub.”

“You’ve rescinded your right to lean on me.”

Harley pouted but stopped leaning.  She was quickly replaced, however, by Edward.

“Do you people just not have a concept of personal space?” Jon glared at Edward.

“As much as I want to make a snide remark, I also can barely stand,” Edward commented, “You’re support right now, I’m not totally over the number Roman did on me.”

Jon nodded and looked back at the building.

“I take it none of you want to go inside,” Duke guessed.

“You know I really don’t wanna be groped a third time this week,” Jon admitted.

“If we’re lucky he won’t be here,” Ivy started towards the door.

“If we’re lucky neither will Roman and we can just neutralize the stockpile,” Jon noted.

“I’ll carry this,” Harvey picked up Edward and started following Ivy to the door.  Jon smirked and started towards the door, he heard Harley’s heels clicking behind him.

“Do we have a plan?” Duke asked.

“Honey if we had a plan you’d already know,” Ivy answered.

“We don’t really do plans,” Harley shrugged, “well, we used to.”

“When we had time,” Edward added.

“And money,” Ivy pitched in.

“And some semblance of medication,” Jon finished, and the other four rogues glared at him, “what?”

“ _Maybe if you stopped dumping your meds down the toilet you’d have more_ ,” Ivy hissed.

Jon stared blankly at Ivy and she kept walking, muttering about how much of a black-out drunk Jon was.  Jon grinned and skipped up to walk beside Ivy.

“You’re mad at me,” he observed, “and not just about the meds.”

“You never told me you had history with Strange,” Ivy stopped, then nodded for everyone to keep going, they didn’t, “much less something that bad.”

“I don’t talk about it,” Jon said firmly, “I was a stupid kid who mistook a depraved man’s attentions for genuine love.”

“And that makes it okay to not mention it?” Ivy asked.

“Oh so something like that is proper to bring up in casual conversation?”

“Before we got to Strange.  I wouldn’t have let you go in if I’d known.”

“He wouldn’t have helped if I wasn’t there.”

“Then you should’ve let us come in with you.”

“Ivy, listen to me, please, just for five seconds.”

“You put yourself in danger Jon.”

“To protect the people I care about!”

Ivy fell silent, a scowl on her face.  Jon felt his breath picking up in pace.

“I don’t want to see you, or Ed, or Harley, or Harvey get hurt because I was a stupid kid who trusted the wrong person.  I don’t want any of you to get hurt because of my stupid mistakes.  Just once can you let me forget about my fucking safety for the sake of others?”

“Just once?  _Just once_?  Jon, you don’t forget about your own safety, it’s a constant afterthought in the trainwreck that you’re letting get bigger and bigger because _you don’t care_.”

“Last I checked caring didn’t get me very far.”

“You’re killing yourself.  You want to keep the people you love safe?  Start caring.  Until then, you can stay in the car.”

“You’re not leaving me out of this,” Jon protested, “this is my city just as much as anyone else’s.  This involves people I care about.  I need to help.”

“I’m not sitting idly by and letting you put yourself in danger just so you can help.”

“Pamela.”

Ivy stood firm, “Either you take care of yourself first, or you don’t help.  Those are your options.”

“Pamela please.”

Ivy pointed to Edward, “Right there is a man who is so head-over-heels for you he almost broke down when he realized what Strange had done to you.  If you were to get hurt, how do you think he’d react?”

Jon searched for words, but all that really came out was a high-pitched wail.  Tears that had until now been carefully held back started falling.  Jon’s last vestige of control had always been his own emotions, but now he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, he just knew it felt awful and he wanted to go home.

Jon did his best to wipe away his tears and bite back a sob.

“Jon don’t do this,” Ivy sounded almost inconvenienced.

“ _What did you expect_?” Jon raised his voice, “Really truly answer that.  What did you expect to happen?”

“We’re all worried about people we care about why can’t you-”

“I just had to talk someone who treated me like an object for two years, someone else is planning to do the same and _kill_ people I care about, I don’t know how the _fuck_ to feel about Ed, and you expect me to be _calm_?  You expect me to get over this and not break down?”

“Harley is.  Edward is.”

“They’re.  Not.  Me.  God forbid anyone not respond to this entire _fucking_ situation like an actual functioning human being logically would.  You’re calm because you don’t have any stakes.  Fear Toxin doesn’t work on you, it doesn’t work on Harley, and you don’t care what happens to this city.  You’re here because you hate Joker, so if you have a problem with how I’m reacting to the metric ton of stress that’s been dumped on my shoulders, you can go fuck yourself.”

Ivy looked at the door, then nodded.

“Fine,” she walked down the steps and shoved Jon as she passed, “last time I feel sorry for a man.”

Jon’s emotion snapped from fear to rage and Harvey barely had time to grab him as he lunged at Ivy.  He was too angry to speak, too angry to care if anyone was watching, but oh, how terrified Ivy looked.  Harvey was shouting, but Jon couldn’t be paid to care what he was saying.

Harvey pulled Jon away from Ivy and slapped him, hard, across the face.  All at once, everything crashed right back down around him, and Harvey’s face switched from anger to instant regret.

“Oh god Jon I’m-” he began, but stopped himself.  Without a word, Jon shoved Harvey back and started down the street.  He wasn’t getting attached; he wasn’t going to care.  Jon took a deep breath and almost felt his heart harden once more.

 _Forget about them,_ a part of him was saying, _they don’t really care about you._

Jon started to look back, but kept his eyes forwards.  He didn’t even realize he was crying.

And even if he did, he didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to cut back on the cast for a few chapters and I've got a bunch of chapters with a very prominent Ivy, so you'll get the next 3 or so chapters' cast...next chapter actually!
> 
> Also small thing: I would really appreciate comments. Nothing makes me want to write more than comments, and nothing makes me want to go radio silent more than silence in the comments.


End file.
